


Eternal War Book II: Mission Scorpion

by Anchanted_One



Series: Eternal War [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Deal With It, Depression, Despair, Don't Copy to Another Site Without Permission, F/F, F/M, Fighting the Dark Side, Gen, Jedi Knight, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Sci-Fi, Sith Lord - Freeform, Space Opera, The Dark Side of the Force, Trauma, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:09:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 50,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23322979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anchanted_One/pseuds/Anchanted_One
Summary: Arcann is dead, and the Eternal Empire lies broken. But the rogue droid SCORPIO has snatched the Throne and the command of the Eternal Fleet for herself. Though slowed by unforeseen complications, she intends to take control of the Galaxy for her own ends.But for now she is forced to wait until her control returns, and the Galaxy is allowed a brief window of respite from active war, as all sides regroup and stockpile resources for the coming clash.
Relationships: Ava Jaxo/Male Republic Trooper, Female Sith Inquisitor/Vaylin, Lana Beniko/Male Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython, Male Smuggler/Cedonia Teraan, Risha Drayen/Merritt Rineld, Theron Shan/Aric Jorgan
Series: Eternal War [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1350574
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	1. A New Day and A New War

* * *

The bunker was nestled in the bowels of the Undercity. Unlike the Eternal City, Undercity had always been an untidy sprawling mess. Mounds of rubble and rubbish covered the floor, of which the once-beautiful tiles had long ago cracked and splintered so many times that they appeared indistinguishable from the debris piled on top of them. The surrounding buildings were dilapidated and filthy. Pipes were in terrible disrepair and leaked their contents all over the ground—whether fresh water or dirty. The copper filaments of wires spilled out of their insulated sleeves, exposing passersby to the electricity they carried.

Garbage disposal systems had long since fallen out of repair, and most bins and disposal sites were overflowing, and infested with pests who were never shy to enter occupied tenements and spread rot and disease.

Well, over the past few days, this was quickly becoming the state of all once-civilized areas of Zakuul, but the Undercity remained a particularly dense hive of lawlessness and disrepair.

And this particular bunker was the main hideout and stronghold of the most notorious of all the criminals who operated on the planet: The Lady of Sorrows. This was where she housed the most critical of her secrets and treasures, chief among which was her backup; insurance for the eventuality of her primary physical unit being rendered inoperable. Few were allowed here; droids entering had to endure the most stringent of scans before being allowed to pass and the base was heavily shielded from communication and holonet signals. All information had to be physically brought in by her agent, the one single organic who was allowed inside; the Nautolan woman called Thea. 

A recent addition was a large throne, a replica of the one that had sat in the Imperial Spire for three hundred years. But this one was designed less for comfort—the Lady didn’t need any—and more for functionality; in particular it had supercomputer processors that allowed it to work even faster than the original unit and precisely control an infinitely larger army of mechanical servants. 

The Lady of Sorrows—or SCORPIO, as she was known as to many others in the Galaxy—had initially intended to exist primarily in the GEMINI network until this throne had been perfected, but Vaylin’s explosive demonstration had forced her to rush the construction of this replacement unit so that she could begin to reassert her control over the now headless fleet. For weeks the mighty ships of the Eternal Fleet had floated in space, responding to threats but otherwise not showing any signs of life. Factories both within the ships and on select planets which had hitherto been producing armies, armaments, and ships nonstop, had gone silent. Worst of all, the rest of the Galaxy had moved forward unchecked for that whole time.

Reports came in that the Republic, Empire, and especially the thrice-cursed Alliance had tightened their defenses and lines of communication. Stores of food and other essentials had been stockpiled in the event of choking of trade routes, as had happened when Arcann had begun his initial conquest. Beyond this, she had no doubt that they had quickly built up their fleets too; they might even have jumpstarted efforts when the Alliance had Arcann on the backfoot.

Even the resistance on Zakuul was working to solidify their positions and stores in the silence; Alliance ships were dropping in supplies every day even though ships still couldn’t land or leave the planet.

Within the confines of the backup unit, SCORPIO seethed. All of her well-laid plans were in disarray now thanks to that infernal Jedi and that petulant child Vaylin. If she had to pick one thing she hated most about the world of organics, it was their ridiculous penchant for disorder. And now she was plagued by that annoyance herself.

But soon… soon! She would begin moving soon.

The bunker’s sensors alerted her to someone entering the outer hall. That they knew the codes left no doubt who it could be. SCORPIO waited impatiently as Thea worked her way to the inner sanctum, and when she finally arrived, she demanded “Well?”

“Good news, Lady,” the Nautolan woman said. As always she was stoic as a dead womp rat. “I found your old body in the remains of ship 22708. Evidently the Captain did secure it in a blast proof vault before her ship was destroyed. It is a little cooked though despite the vault, so it will need repairs before—”

“I don’t care about damage!” SCORPIO shrieked. She had to rely solely on the computer’s loudspeaker to communicate. “I will transfer to it right now. Anything is better than this endless isolation.”

Thea seemed unperturbed by SCORPIO’s outburst. “Yes, Lady,” she said emotionlessly. “In other news, we have reports of ex-High Justice Vaylin sightings all over the Galaxy, but the information closest approaching ‘reliable’ has placed her on Ord Mantell.”

“Define ‘ _reliable_ ’,” SCORPIO challenged.

“A Scion by the name of Manake.”

“A Scion?” SCORPIO scoffed. “Since when do we consider religious zealots reliable?”

“Since ex-Emperor Arcann almost annihilated their order. Twice. And they have resources that we don’t.”

“By ‘resources’, you mean their vaunted Force-sight? The thing that convinced Heskal to betray not only his supposed allies but his own brethren as well?”

Thea shrugged. “I could let this go.”

SCORPIO would have tittered if she weren’t disembodied. “Fine. Leak their whereabouts to rogue Sith with an axe to grind. They should do the job for us, if this information is good. And if it’s not, then we have no resources wasted.”

* * *

**Alderaan**

Lana Beniko woke to the sound of insistent beeping from her personal holo and quickly hit the silence button before it disturbed Arro. She squinted at the chrono in the dark, trying to tell the time. It was half past three in the morning. Who in blazes wanted to speak to her this ungodly hour?

It was Koth. Lana felt her sleepiness vanish like a wisp of smoke.

“ _Koth_!” In her astonishment she squawked so loudly that Arro’s eyes shot open. She cursed before speaking to her late-night caller again. “Damn, you called at such an unearthly hour but you’ve no idea how good it is to hear from you! Where have you been? Are you in any trouble?”

On the other end, Koth flinched. “That’s too many questions!” He complained.

“What do you expect? You bailed on us without even a proper goodbye, stole one of our shuttles…”

“Commandeered!” Koth corrected. “And you owed me a few anyway, right?”

“Yes, but that shuttle belonged to the Alliance, not me! And… oh, Koth, you haven’t crashed this one too, have you?”

“Well…” Koth tried to look evasive but there was no mistaking his embarrassment. “I kinda called for a different reason. Lana, I was attacked by a Sith Lord. One with purple robes, silky voice, creepy mask. Ring any bells?”

“You’ve just described almost every third Sith Lord who has ever existed.”

“Well, he mentioned that his name was Darth Jaded.”

“ _Jadus!_ ” 

“Uhhh, yeah! I think that’s it!”

“Jadus has been in hiding for years! Why did he pick now to crawl out of the woodwork? And why attack _you_?” Lana shot a frightened glance at Arro. who was looking back at her, and nearly as tense. Could Jadus know about her…?

Impossible. 

“And how in blazes did you survive the encounter?!”

“Well,” again Koth looked sheepish. “He wasn’t exactly after _me_. Lana, please don’t get mad… but I’m on Ord Mantell. With Vaylin.”

* * *

Koth looked around, squinting to penetrate the gloom. It was dark; all the lights in the base were out. And the ones outside too. Old instincts had taken over, told him something was _wrong_ here. He tried to be careful but his efforts were thwarted by an inconvenient puddle.

His feet slipped out from under him and he landed noisily on his ass, cursing whoever it was that had dropped a whole bottle of water or oil or _something_ and hadn’t cleaned up after themselves.

 _Something? Oh no..._ Suddenly his bad feeling morphed into ‘emergency, mortal peril’ mode.

He lifted his palm off the floor, inspected the dark liquid on it. It was too dark to see, but he could take a guess by smell and consistency.

It was _blood_. Horrified, he could make out the shape of a helmet on the ground next to him. It had been crumpled and warped as though a giant fist had squashed it like a grape. He thought he could see a face behind the mask, twisted in the abject terror he had felt in his final moments.

The time for caution vanished like a frightened deer, and rather than a low whisper he screamed at the top of his lungs. _“VAYLIN, WE NEED TO FUCKING RUN!_ ”

“Too late,” came a voice he had never heard before; it was silk made of ice, and he felt so scared he nearly screamed again. “You’ve kept me waiting.”

A flash—a brief jolt as the intruder channeled a blade of lightning into the ground. The sudden light blinded Koth, and he felt more than saw the current ignite and blow up the canisters of gas around him. 

The whole place was about to erupt in a fireball!

Who the fuck was stupid enough to blow up a room before even escaping the blast radius? Luckily for him, Vaylin had run in after him, and she had Shielded both of them from the intense wave of heat, noise, and raw shock that had almost engulfed them. “Whut?”

Oh, of course. The intruder was adept in the Force too—and they could channel the explosive force of a particularly lethal bomb away from themselves. This was not good! 

The base around them exploded and crumpled like it was made of tissue paper as both Force Wielders Deflected the blast from around themselves. 

_Caught between two dangerous Rancors! Fuck Izaxx, but this is just my luck!_

He flattened himself against the floor as Vaylin and the intruder Grappled briefly, then the intruder drew his lightsaber. 

_Red blade. Fuck. It’s a Sith!_

The Sith Lord charged like an angry ronto, launching himself at Vaylin who drew her own Lightsaber and held her ground.

How could such a small girl meet such a huge brute like him head on? Yellow blade parried the red. Once, twice, thrice.

But the fourth strike cleaved Vaylin’s hilt, and Vaylin had to desperately duck out of the way to avoid getting skewered.

“Who are you?” She shrieked, tossing up a bubble of a Force Shield around herself to keep that red blade at bay.

“I am Darth Jadus,” the man said calmly. “And you are one of those two children who crushed my Empire. Now, I crush _you_.”

But he had grossly underestimated Vaylin. Denied her Lightsaber, she instead Force Screamed. The sound was so loud—so _piercing_ —that the metal pillars that had once supported this base—and which had been already twisted by the explosion—splintered. This poor fool—this Sith named Jadus—was tossed off his feet and into the blackness, his shocked scream fading into the distance as he was blasted away. Far away. Perhaps even far enough.

Koth was unnerved. Who wouldn’t be? He was shaking so hard that he didn’t think he could stand again for at least another five minutes. But that was alright. That Sith wouldn’t be back anytime soon. That knowledge comforted him, gave him the confidence to allow his body the time it needed to recover from the shock.

_It’s over! And we’re safe!_

Yes, they were safe for now. But what next? What was he supposed to do now?

He was in the middle of nowhere, with a wanted fugitive, and no resources. As much as he hated to think about it right now, he needed help. Her help.

He was especially not looking forward to telling her that Vaylin’s escape pod unexpectedly complicated his landing.

* * *

“Good news,” Lana said, sounding more than halfway amused. “We’ve found Vaylin.”

Arro gave his wife a chuckle before returning his attention to the man on the holo. “Were either of you injured? Are you both okay?”

“About that,” Koth said, pulling a hand through his hair in frustration. “Vaylin’s… devolving. She’s acting like a five-year-old. And that wasn’t Jadus; she was already losing it when I found her.”

“Where did you even find her?” Arro was confused.

“On Zakuul,” Koth replied simply. “In orbit. I headed there after… well, after the Battle of Odessen. I intended to get to the ground, help my people however I could.But the planet was on lockdown already. I didn’t even try to run the blockade, but she clearly had. And failed.” He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. “She had blown the Spire using the Force but her ship was dying. She got to an escape pod just before it blew. I didn’t really know it was her at first, there was too much interference on the comms. By the time I had her pod… Well, I couldn’t leave anyone behind there. Not even her.”

“Did she realize who you were?”

“She knew me by name,” Koth shuddered. “It unnerved me. Guess I thought that I was really on her shit list for her to know me. But luckily for me she was quite friendly. Asked me to set a course for Ord Mantell. Then asked me to call her ‘Sister’.” He snickered nervously. 

“Why Ord Mantell?” Lana asked.

“There was a small outpost of Knights here. Vaylin thought they’d help her stop SCORPIO. But by the time we got there, she was acting all weird. Child-like, and disturbed, and… you know what I mean. When we finally found the Knights Vaylin was playing with a doll she begged me to buy for her in the market.”

“Where are the Knights now?” Lana looked like she already knew the answer to that question.

“Dead. Jadus killed them all. We’re all alone and exposed out here.”

“What can we do to help?”

“Well, I need another place to go. Some credits too—we need new clothes, food. Ammo. And… we need another ship.”

“Another ship?” Lana’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Koth… what about the perfectly serviceable ship you took from our hangar?”

“It crashed,” Koth looked deeply embarrassed. “I forgot that Vaylin’s pod was attached.”

“Fucking hells, Koth!” Lana was appalled. “That is even more reckless than your usual stunts! And you’re surprised the crash affected Vaylin? Of course she’s traumatized!”

“Look it wasn’t my fault!” Koth insisted. “We got chased by the local pirates, and in the excitement I totally forgot! It could have happened to anyone!”

Lana simply sighed, but Arro could feel her bite back her anger. “What matters is that Vaylin gets the help she needs. And you with her. But I promise you, next time we meet, I’m going to have some words for you.”

Koth looked relieved. “Thanks Lana, Outlander. I owe you guys one.”

Arro rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I have some friends on Ord Mantell. I’ll get in touch with them, see what I can round up for you.”

* * *

“It turns out your Scion informant was right,” SCORPIO commented. “Shame that Vaylin escaped.”

“If we had sent out my people, instead of an unreliable _Sith_ …” Thea said, lip curling at the word.

“It doesn’t matter right now. We have bigger fish to fry. The Fleet is ours. My Scorpion Throne is online. At long last, I can begin asserting my control over the ships of the Eternal Fleet, then restart all factories. It won’t be long before we have an army and a fleet beyond anything this galaxy has ever seen. And then we can begin our conquest of the Galaxy.”

* * *


	2. Disturbance

* * *

Theron Shan knew Lana well enough to know when she was close to panic. He had seen her maintain her icy cool as she deflected the Sith Emperor’s formidable attempts to seize control of her mind back on Ziost, or even in the years when she was single-mindedly bent on rescuing Arro even though she had been completely on her own in the early months. Indeed, the only time he had seen her losing her composure had been when she had broken down on Rishi after arranging for Theron’s capture; the tears she had shed when she begged for his forgiveness.

Which was why when she called him to tell him about Darth Jadus, he was surprised by her agitation. The brief call convinced him to deal with the situation personally.

His first move was—on Lana’s own suggestion—to alert the Republic at the highest possible level. He punched in the frequency for Supreme Commander Malcom’s office fully expecting to have to leave a message with his secretary, but was surprised—and a little pleased—when his father answered the call.

“Hello Theron. We haven’t spoken in years.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Theron allowed only the slightest edge to enter his voice. “But you made it clear that you weren’t happy with my decision to join Lana.”

“And here we are, only two years later, and your Sith friend’s plan has been a resounding success,” Malcom had a bite of sarcasm in his own voice. “Although to be honest, I expected it to be the Sith who betrayed you, and not some damn Droid. But Arcann is dead, the myth of the Eternal Fleet’s invincibility has been shattered, and you are in possession of the deadliest warship in the galaxy; so you and your Alliance do deserve some praise there.”

“Thank you,” Theron decided it was best to get to business. “Listen, I have an urgent report I needed to make you aware of. Ever hear of Darth Jadus?” He didn’t wait for a response. As he spoke, he sent Lana’s dossier on the Sith Lord. He had been sure to modify it so that the lines ‘Mastermind behind what could have been the most disastrous terrorist attack on Imperial soil’ and ‘second in power to the Emperor in his day’ were highlighted.

Malcom’s eyebrows rose as he read the summary. “Go on.”

“He’s come out of hiding after more than a decade underground. And he was on Ord Mantell as of forty-five minutes ago.”

“Sweet blessed Hawrus!” Malcom cursed. He understood the danger, alright. That someone like Jadus had resurfaced after such a long time did not bode well. “Do you have precise coordinates?”

“Sort of,” Theron said. “My report says that he attacked a small Outpost of Zakuul Knights—no one knows why they were there, just that they were—and massacred almost all of them. But then someone must have escaped, because apparently Jadus was knocked back by the Force. Like, waaay back. I don’t know what direction, but he could have been hurled almost a mile away. If you don’t know where the outpost was, the place was destroyed when a powerful explosion went off; investigators might already be at the scene.”

“Very well,” Malcom nodded. “I’ll get on this immediately. I’m sorry, Theron, but if we do find something I might not be able to tell you. You’ll probably hear it from the Holonet, if at all you do.”

“That’s fine,” Theron said, rubbing his face. He already felt so damn tired, and he had just started! “We don’t have the manpower to hunt down Jadus if he escapes Ord Mantell. All of our resources are focussed on stopping SCORPIO right now. But if I can ask just one favour, allow any Alliance personnel to go over the blast site, please?”

“Understood. Be well Theron. And tell Jasme I said hello.”

“Later, Dad.”

After the line went silent, Theron wasted no time before sending the word out to his contacts in SIS. But his hopes weren’t high. None of them were on Ord Mantell.

Still, he wasn’t completely out of options. “Kaliyo, this is Theron. I have an assignment for you. Guaranteed to make you happy.”

Kaliyo’s voice was hoarse from having just woken up. “For this time of day, it had better make me squeal like it’s all my birthday presents in one parcel.”

* * *

Vector Hyllus was surprised when he answered his holo. Sure, as a member of the Diplomatic service, he had considered the possibility of a call from the Odessen Alliance, but to actually get one…

“Hello, is this the office of Mister Hyllus of Diplomatic Service? Hello, my name is Theron Shan of the Odessen Alliance.”

“Good evening Mister Shan. This is Vector Hyllus. How may I be of assistance to you?”

Shan seemed surprised. Perhaps he hadn’t expected Vector to be a Joiner? No, there was no repulsion in his eyes. Maybe he hadn’t expected Vector to answer himself. “Hello, Mister Hyllus. I wanted to request your help with a potentially sticky situation. One Darth Jadus has resurfaced on Ord Mantell, and given how you were part of the mission that stopped him last time, I thought you might be willing to help us tighten the noose before he slips away again.”

This was one of the many times Vector felt the benefit of being a Joiner; his mind was only stunned for a brief second before taking on its cold-blooded, decisive resolve.

“You have my full cooperation in this. Tell me everything.”

* * *

Detective Vanne Kadarin of the Ord Mantell Police and Security Corp—PASCOrm as it was sometimes called by the unimaginative—surveyed the bomb site. An explosion had gone off here roughly thirty-seven minutes ago, in a blast so powerful that not even the charred durasteel skeleton of the structure remained. 

Bits of ferrocrete and transparisteel lay all over the ground for almost a mile, and the sky was thick with smoke. Also strewn about on the ground were hundreds of dead or dazed animals and birds.

According to satellite surveillance, there had been two blasts; one a powerful but ordinary explosion like a thermal detonator—or a gas explosion— and a sonic blast far beyond the normal power of such bombs. It was undoubtedly this boom that had knocked so many birds and animals out. 

Vanne sighed. Ever since open war had ended years ago, there had not been a single incident on this scale. She was finally getting used to the peace and quiet too, after spending months and months worried that Ord Mantell was just experiencing the calm before the storm.

And now this. 

There were people who had been in this building, that was certain—charred remains of remains had been found, with a lot more suspected to have been pulverized by the sonic blast. What was this place? A military bunker? She hoped they weren’t developing some secret weapon way out here, but she doubted it; the building had a small storehouse of weapons and vehicles, most of which had survived thanks to several additional walls shielding them, but they seemed more like a safehouse. A small outpost. There was nothing to suggest that there was any research or development was going on here—all precautions were meant for intruders, not experiments gone wrong.

“Hey Vannie!” Her partner Sadia came jogging up to her from their speeder. “Just got off the comms. You’ll never guess who it was.”

The tall, heavyset Twi’lek shrugged. “Not in the mood for games.”

“Oh, come on Vannie!” Her Rodian friend huffed. “Just this once?”

She sighed “One guess, okay?”

“That’s the spirit!”

Vanne said “Supreme Commander Malcom’s office.” _Might as well go big_ , she thought. But on seeing her friend’s reaction, she felt a deep foreboding once the surprise wore off. What would merit a call from the Supreme Commander’s office—?

Suddenly, she spun around to look at the Crime Scene again.

_Oh. Right. That would do it._

* * *

Lana anxiously paced the gardens attached to their cottage. She had given up on finding Jadus years ago; not seen so much as a shadow of movement anywhere. After years without any clues, she had conceded a rare defeat; Jadus had successfully gone underground, to bide his time and evade his pursuers. The only way to find him, she had known, was if he came out into the open again. Or slipped up.

And now, after more than twelve years, he had briefly reappeared on her radar; foiled in his attempt to kill Vaylin. He had massacred a small force of Knights, and would have killed Koth and Vaylin too. Then he’d have gone back underground with her being none the wiser.

How many times had Jadus done this over the past decade? How many times had he struck, leaving no witnesses? It was a big galaxy, big enough that his most brazen moves could have eluded one of the Galaxy’s greatest Intelligence networks so long as he remembered to clean up afterwards. 

So how many slaughters had he walked away from? How many had died because she had failed to end his life while she could? She would never know, only imagine. And her nights would be dogged by ghosts—imaginary or not—for many more months to come.

She stopped on the wooden bridge above the pond, looking down at her reflection below; trying to recenter herself. Her reflection surprised her; she appeared much more tense than she thought she did, and she hadn’t noticed her prosthetic fingers twitching nervously. She shakily inhaled, then walked back towards the house. Arro sat waiting for her at the table. He had ordered a big breakfast; bread, cheese, and a korochicken curry, the smell of which made Lana’s mouth water.

“Breakfast is served, my love.”

“Mmmm! Smells good!” It was. The chicken was cooked to perfection and the blend of spices was so tasty that for a moment she was able to close her eyes and ignore every care in the galaxy. Jadus, SCORPIO, the Eternal Fleet, Valkorion, the Gravestone—she was completely able to shut them out for the duration of the meal.

When she was finished, she sighed contentedly. “Well, if that was your way of ending our honeymoon on a high note, then mission accomplished, I’d say! I suppose we’re going back to Odessen as soon as we can?”

Arro had a thoughtful expression on his face. “Actually Lana, I was thinking of returning to Odessen alone.”

Lana’s jaw dropped. “What?” 

“Aside from being a real threat, Jadus’ return disturbs you greatly. You regret not having killed him all those years ago. You feel like he’s your responsibility.”

“Yes…” Lana whispered. She knew where this was going, and was equal parts eager and nervous.

“So, go and follow the trail. SCORPIO can wait; the cocktail of viruses you, Theron, and TeeSeven fed her should leave her greatly vulnerable. It’s only a matter of time before we take her down.”

“You sure? You want to fight her without me? My hunt could take time.”

“I’m sure. I think. I’ve been relying on you too much, lately. It’s time to see if the Hero of Tython can still kick ass without his wife there to support him.”

Lana laughed heartily. “So be it, my love. Just remember, you ever need me, give me a tug on our bond; I’ll tear the galaxy apart to save you. I’ve already done it once after all!”

Arro’s smile was as the sun emerging from the darkness cast by news of Jadus. “Then it’s settled.”

* * *

There was a time when the morning sun rose, it would bounce off the hull of the E-type 101x “Phantom V” class Nubian ship to shine bright as a second sun. But this particular vessel had been well camouflaged to allow its passengers a more low-profile manner—less flashy, so to speak—of getting around the galaxy. Of the crew of seven, not a one still had his or her own mind anymore—it had long since been dominated and almost wiped out, leaving only fearful obedience to the one who had been responsible. They sat cowering at their stations, living in constant terror of their Master.

And they never left the ship when it was out ferrying their passengers around. Not unless absolutely necessary. 

And they never took off without permission. Not even if the Master they served was more than five days late. Other than the Master himself, the Passengers included his personal attendants and slaves, none of whom had the authority to command the crew to take off. And everyone on board was worried. Worried that their Master had finally been silenced, but worried even more that he had escaped whatever misfortune, and would soon return to bathe them in torment. None of them had been forbidden from even leaving the ship, but the thought of stepping outside its vicinity never crossed any of their minds.

At best, they stepped outside to anxiously look for his return. Like she was now.

The woman with the scarred mouth sighed pitifully. She had heard the explosion, had Sensed Jadus being unexpectedly hurled a long way off, but knew better than to think he had been hurt, much less dead. The only question was what was taking him so long; he was not the sort to risk his neck when he was exposed, preferring to flee back to the shadows as quickly as possible if his strike failed. And almost as bad as Jadus was that damned Cathar. Perhaps worse.

Panathar. 

He had called this morning to ask what was taking Jadus so long, and the woman had to bear the brunt of his probing tendrils as he callously trespassed in the deepest recesses of her mind. He couldn’t read her thoughts, the woman was certain about that. 

But at his passing, all of her deepest fears and wraiths stirred and wailed; ticks drawn to a k'lor'slug’s slimy trail. What was more, the Cathar’s touch distorted them, adding elements to her nightmares that made them even more perverse and humiliating than the reality she had endured. She found herself almost choking on her tears and fears; she didn’t even remember what she had said; she had been that keen to just be done with this.

The vicious grin he had given her when the call had ended still made her shiver. 

He had called twice already, and she despaired at the thought of having to speak to him again.

Fortunately she was spared having to ponder any further. She saw a figure prowl gracefully out of the mist, moving so slowly one would think he was in a beautiful sanctuary, and had all the time in the world.

“Welcome back, O Great Master,” she said, throwing herself flat on the ground as he approached. “May the ground ever quake in fear of your steps.”  
The other two slaves who had stepped out as well likewise prostrated themselves.

She felt the Master’s unseen eyes regard her coldly. “There has been a Disturbance in the Force.” Once upon a time, the woman would have thought, _No, really? The loud explosion gave it away, did it?_ But by now she had long since learned to avoid such compromising thoughts. Unlike Panathar, the Master _could_ read minds, at least those of his thralls.

“Someone is aware of me now. Someone who might be a thorn in my side.” So saying, he walked up the open hatch to his ship. “I think it’s time to play a new game for a little while.”

The woman swallowed the lump in her throat and waited for the echoes of his footsteps to fade before she and her fellows stood up and followed him inside. She traded glances with another slave, who appeared as disturbed as she herself felt. The Master had made a grave mistake and was worried now, and that meant that life was about to get more terrifying for all of them.

* * *


	3. Preparations

* * *

Koth Vortena gloomily stepped out of the taxi he had rented. Like much of the machinery used by the people of Ord Mantell, it was designed for endurance in the rocky terrain, but with little thought given to comfort. Even the name of the model was some dull series of letters and numbers. 

It did its job well enough, but blessed Esne, how it seemed determined to annoy the crap out of him! Every time he accelerated he could swear that the rattling sound made by the engines got worse! Shifting the gears was a task that required a herculean effort and by the time the six-hour flight ended, the muscles on his wrist ached so badly that he wondered if he might have damaged his arm permanently. And the seat was so hard and lumpy that his backside felt like it might fall off.

How he wished he could have kept the speeder-bike that the Knights had given him—a Zakuulan Blessed Hawk, a top-of-the-line military model—but it had been damaged in the explosion caused by Darth Jadus. Repairing it would have cost him much more than he could afford thrice over, especially out here on Ord Mantell. 

Vaylin had wept at the loss of the speeder, just as she had at the loss of the Knights. Koth had taken her along for some joyrides over the rockies and cliffs, and the girl had been delighted by the thrills of high-speed bike rides. One of the Knights, an older man named Carro, had admonished Koth for such dangerous activities, but even he had been happy with the effect a little recreational riding had on Vaylin—who was still mourning the loss of her brother, Arcann.

The dozen or so Knights had been taken aback to see their former High Justice behaving like a five-year-old. In her old post she had been notoriously cruel to her subordinates, but she was still of the Imperial family regardless of her former personality. And they had taken deep pride in their place in the long heritage of the Eternal Empire. One of them—old Gellert—had even known about some of what had been done to Vaylin, and his stories had been enough for the others to be more understanding of her previous and current states of mind.

Their outpost had been well stocked, and reluctance to help was one of the many things they did not have in short supply. When Koth had arrived with Vaylin in tow—and especially given the current situation on Zakuul—they had immediately forgiven him for his desertion and vowed to help Vaylin and him. Not necessarily to restore the Imperial family, but certainly to save their home. 

And as Veteran Knights, they all knew the value of caution and planning rather than leaping in headfirst. Once Vaylin had settled in they had begun strategizing, even debated working with the Alliance. And then this attack by this Darth Jadus. 

Who was he, and why did his name bring such a look of consternation on Lana’s face? He was prepared to press her for details later, but now, he had had to get his focus on the present. 

They needed to move, and for that they needed a new plan. And resources.

He was glad that neither Lana nor the Outlander missed out on the severity of the situation. They had not pressed him for any details that weren’t immediately pertinent to the problem either. And the Outlander had been quick to reach out to some of his old friends. 

So here he was on his way to meet the first contact, outside a warehouse in the middle of a small village called Ordram. It was close enough to a Republic Fort called Fort Garnik that Koth felt moderately nervous, but this stronghold—like many others following Zakuul’s conquest—appeared lightly garrisoned. Despite the late hour, there was enough foot traffic that he and Vaylin didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. Even the warehouse itself had a few people still working inside, judging by the light coming out of several open windows.

Stepping into the dimly lit building, Koth headed straight for the back entrance and into the blind alley as he had been instructed. From there, he followed the small path till he reached a modest housing complex, whose back entrance opened into the alley.

Once inside, he went up the stairs and knocked on the left-side door. The door was answered by a dark-skinned man in his forties. 

He smiled wide in greeting. “Hey there, cousin!” He spoke with a voice that immediately sounded reassuring and strong. “You’re right on time. Those shuttle schedules are a real pain, aren’t they?”

“Oh hell, yeah!” Koth played along, smiling back at the man. “A few hours earlier and we could have made it in time for dinner, and a few hours later, we’d be here at dawn, but no! Had to be Half-past two!”

“Yeah, well, thanks to the non-stop action, we here are a little more accustomed to flexible schedules.” Their host ushered them into his house, briefly clapping Koth on the shoulder.

“Not at all like back home,” Koth nodded. “Wars weren’t nearly as hard back on Rishi.”

The door closed behind him and the man slipped into a more businesslike—but not unfriendly— manner. “Welcome to Ordram Village, Captain Vortena. My name’s Ottau. Former Republic SIS.”

“Call me Koth,” Koth replied, briefly clasping the man’s calloused hand. “Thank you for seeing us so quickly. We’re kinda in over our heads here.”

“So Master Arro told me,” Ottau said. He turned his attention to Koth’s companion. “I must admit, I’m surprised to be helping someone as high-profile as Princess Vaylin.” Vaylin waved sleepily before turning her attention back to the small wooden doll she was playing with. “High profile… not to mention an enemy of the Republic. Zakuul’s War was costly for us. And we’re still paying for it.”

Koth felt deeply nervous again. He didn’t know if he could trust this man at all; he was only here on the Outlander’s recommendation. If his confidence was misplaced, Koth was in deep trouble. But it wasn’t like he had any other options.

Ottau looked hard at Vaylin for a few seconds before gently patting her head and passing her a glass of some chilled juice, then set one for Koth, before he sat down at his small table. Vaylin swallowed the drink in one big gulp and enthusiastically asked for a refill, and Koth tried to hide his concern that the cup might have been drugged. He was already at Ottau’s mercy after all.

“We promise you,” Koth said weakly. “We’re no longer a threat to the Republic. Or to anyone.”

“Darth Jadus would disagree,” Ottau replied. “Vaylin walloped him so hard he was knocked all the way back into the horizon. However—” he held up a hand forestalling Koth’s admittedly weak reassurances. “—we know about how Vaylin was treated by her Father. Despite my reservations, I am willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. May we all be so lucky as to heal after suffering from that kind of trauma. And it’s not everyone who comes to my door recommended by Battlemaster Arro.”

Koth felt all his muscles relax at once on hearing those words. “Thank you. I know it’s a lot to ask for...”

“Well, I suppose you do…” Ottau said. “You helped bust the man responsible for your Emperor’s death out of carbonite.”

“Sometimes war makes for strange bedfellows.”

“Very strange!” Ottau took a swig of the juice and grinned. “Many people are talking about Arro and Lady Beniko going public about their marriage. A Jedi and a Sith! Never saw that coming, and it’s going to have tongues wagging for the next century at least.”

They fell silent, and Vaylin—tired from the day’s journey—eventually drifted off into a fitful sleep, her head on the table. Ottau helped move her to a nearby cot, then said. “Your documents won’t be here until the day after tomorrow, and Corso will be here the day after that. Until then, I’m sure you guys would appreciate a slow pace. You can stay here for a few days—you’re quite safe here.”

* * *

True to his word, Ottau had provided them with documents, new clothes, and a small case of credits to allow them more freedom to move. Despite his friendly demeanor, he remained a little wary of dealing with the likes of Vaylin or even Koth—who had served in the Eternal Empire’s military—and Koth had realized that this might be something he’d have to get used to in the near future. 

But despite his reservations, Ottau proved quite the hospitable host, complete with sage advice.

“You should stretch your legs. Maybe head on over to Avitlan’s Rest in Fort Garnik and grab a drink while you can. Once Corso gets here you might get busy.”

“Yeah? Thanks man, I think I will do that.”

Leaving Vaylin to play with Ottau’s pet Tooka, Koth did as Ottau suggested and hiked on over to Fort Garnik. It was a short distance, but the path was steep and rocky, so Koth was gasping for air when he arrived at the Fort entrance. 

The guard—a friendly young Devaronian—checked his forged ID and waved him through. “Ex-soldier eh? Yeah, now that things are quiet, a lot of you come here to hang out. Avitlan’s Rest is down the path and to the left, just after the Command Building. Have a nice time, sir!”

Once Koth got close enough he could tell exactly which building housed the Cantina by the sound of the music coming from it. When he crossed the threshold and into the crowded pub, fewer than a third of the patrons turned to get a good look at him. Just as the guard had said, there were a lot of ex-soldiers here; people with haunted looks in their eyes, the look of people who had seen too many of their comrades die. Many of them were out of shape but still had the unmistakable signs of people who had once been at high levels of fitness. There were a lot of military-issue jackets with their old squad’s emblems sewn on the sleeves. 

These were troops who had fought the good fight and were proud of their service, but tired and worn out. Koth immediately felt a sense of kinship with them.

Koth wove his way to an empty table and waved at the waitress to take his order. 

“Never seen you before,” the slender, brown-furred Cathar smiled at him. “Will you be here long?”

“I was visiting a cousin,” Koth grinned back. “And sorry ma’am, but gotta head back out tomorrow. What’s on the menu?”

“We have only a small selection I’m afraid,” she wrinkled her nose apologetically. “Supplies are prioritised for more populous worlds. We have the local brewed ales, brandies, rum, and whiskeys. For food right now we only have roast Gapillian Grazer. It’s a little bland, but filling. Served with bread, cheese, and gravy.”

“I’ll take it,” Koth said, nodding. “Some brandy too.”

When she left, a short human called out to Koth. “You look military. Where’d you serve, soldier?”

Koth nodded at him. “Arron Prime. Eriadu. Malastare. Denon" _But in the Zakuulan Military._

The man whistled. “ Denon was a horrific defeat. How’d you make it out of there?”

Koth screwed up his face. “Hey if it’s all the same, I’d rather not talk about it. Bad days. So many friends dead.”

The man laughed. “That’s everyone’s story here, stranger! It ain’t often we see a new face, and hear new stories. So c’mon, spill it already!” 

“Leave him alone Oten,” a large Zabrak called from the shadows. “Don’t pester him. You can tell he’s haunted by his share of ghosts. Let him forget them for a while; it’s what we’re all here for.”

The man called Oten tried to retort something but one of his friends quickly preempted him by pulling the man back to his seat. “Sorry, Colonel,” another of the people in Oten’s group apologized to the Zabrak.

Koth nodded his thanks and settled down to wait for his order. He had been in those wars, and in those battles, and could describe them accurately if pressed. But he didn’t want to. Especially on Denon, there had been far too many civilian casualties. 

The cantina was silent except for the music for the next few minutes before conversations started again, picking up from where they left off. Eventually, Koth’s order arrived and he dug in with gusto, finding that he really enjoyed the local flavor of the meat. “Can I have some more of this steak please? Packed. I think my little girl will really like it.” Vaylin _could_ pass for a teenager, so there was no harm in the ruse.

She nodded and headed back to the kitchen. As Koth ate his meal with gusto, the Zabrak Colonel who had spoken up for him earlier got his attention, waved him over. Koth was only glad to oblige. He was given a wider berth by the cantina’s patrons—probably because of his rank—and Koth welcomed the extra space, still feeling a little conscious after nearly being interrogated.

“Sorry about Oten,” the Colonel said as Koth sat down. “He was the First Officer at the fort for a while, so thinks he can heckle newcomers. And that despite his demotion.”

“Thank you, Sir. I appreciate you standing up for me back there.” As he spoke, he tried to jog his memory; he had seen this soldier’s face somewhere before. “Name’s Wexley. I was just a Private.”

“Sure thing, Wex,” the Zabrak smiled. “I’ve had trouble with trauma too. But that wasn’t why I called you over, it’s coz I recognized you.”

The words were so casual that they didn’t sink in right away. When they did, Koth’s eyes narrowed and he tried not to panic. The Colonel—who was taking a swig of the cheap ale—didn’t seem to notice. “We have a few mutual friends like Theron Shan,” he went on. “But especially this one man who had served under me. Aric Jorgan.”

And with that name Koth suddenly felt like a charging Ronto had hit him. “You’re Colonel Roban Queens!” he stammered. He was glad that he was nearly choking from his shock—otherwise he might have screamed. “Codename Meteor, of Havoc Squad!”

The large man inclined his horned head, and Koth struggled to continue. “Sir, it is such an honor to meet you! I”ve heard the stories—you are a god-damned legend!”

“Jorgan has told me some stories about you too,” the Zabrak smiled. “He thought you’d have done well in Havoc. That’s high praise from him! I admit I was curious to meet you.”

Koth felt a deep thrill on being praised not only by Jorgan, but also the legendary Colonel Queens. He had heard about this man, read up every scrap he could about his exploits, enthralled by one of the heroes who had risen so far and so quickly despite not being able to use the Force. And now here he was, having apparated out of thin air and right in front of him! He struggled to hide the tears that had sprung from his eyes, to brush them away covertly, but he needn’t have bothered. No one in the bar was looking in his general direction except for his companion.

“So tell me, Wexley—and you can be honest with me,” he tapped the device on his arm, a scrambler designed to foil all but the most sophisticated eavesdropping attempts. “What brings you here, to Ord Mantell?”

* * *

  
  



	4. Departure

**Ordram Village, Ord Mantell**

Koth was surprised at how easily Vaylin and their new companion Colonel Roban Queens had become friends. Although he himself had been instantly taken by the Zabrak Soldier, he had heard stories about the leader of Havoc Squad, and the ordeal he had endured at Klatooine. The months he had spent under siege by Zakuulan troops, alone in a caved-in bunker with food running out. Of how the five soldiers he had then been fighting alongside had died in the very first day of the siege, forcing him to endure those months in their presence, not doing his mental health any favours. Jorgan had bitterly ended the story by saying that the best soldier in the Republic had committed himself to an Asylum.

Not blaming a Zakuulan soldier like Koth was one thing, but Vaylin had been one of the two people responsible for the war. Still, anyone could tell now how damaged Vaylin herself was; perhaps in seeing her in her present condition, the former elite trooper sympathised. 

Koth was relieved, and more than a little glad for the company. Agent Ottau had been busy; as former SIS and native to Ord Mantell, he had been called in to help with the investigation of the blown out bunker. He had also been making the arrangements needed for Koth and Vaylin, getting the relevant documents and disguises.

As it turned out though, neither one needed any elaborate disguises; Koth was still fairly unknown, and Vaylin’s natural hair and eyes were colored quite differently from what all the files on her said.

The dark color of her hair, as it turned out, was actually a dye; a few washes later her locks had turned blonde. They gleamed like spun gold in the sunlight.

But the biggest changes were her eyes and its expressions; Mentally a child again, her eyes began to lose the pale feline yellow coloring that had come with years of channeling the Dark Side; they were bright blue now. Blue like Senya’s. And where the High Justice’s eyes were known for their piercing, huntress-like surveillance of her surroundings, the child’s eyes darted from one object to another to whatever looked the most interesting. And this more often than not included clouds, small animals, and weirdly shaped or colored rocks and plants.

The only thing truly necessary was removing the implants on her forehead. But this needed better equipment than what was needed, so for now they made do with a bandana so brightly colored that a delighted Vaylin had agreed at once to never take it off.

So rather than true disguises, it turned out that all they had needed was a civilian wardrobe. One that would blend in easily in the places they were bound for. Now they were almost ready to depart. All they needed was their ride, which would be arriving when Ottau was working on the other side of the planet so they had already said their goodbyes to him.

But their escort—a man named Corso—was running late and Koth couldn’t stop himself from repeatedly checking the time. Two and a half hours late was quite normal for Ord Mantell, Roban had assured him, but Koth’s mind kept racing back to that frightening encounter that had taken place not one week ago.

Where was Darth Jadus? Had he given up the hunt for now, or was he looking for them still? Or had he found them already, watching them even as they prepared to leave? Would he ambush them as they left? The man seemed to know how to set up an ambush, that much he had demonstrated despite severely underestimating Vaylin. Koth’s imagination conjured up images of getting to their shuttle only to find the ship dark, and the Sith’s calm, deceptively gentle voice greeting them from the shadow. Koth shivered. Would Jadus even give them a second to react this time? Or would he-

“Hey Koth,” a soft voice broke in, dispelling his waking nightmares. Koth shook his head.

“Yeah, Sister?”

“Are you alright?” Vaylin asked him. She was standing in front of him, a mug of hot milk in her hands. “You’re shaking! Here, drink this, it’s suberry flavoured!”

“Thank you,” Koth gratefully accepted the drink.

Roban nodded knowingly. “You’re overthinking again, Koth! Don’t worry. Corso is a good man, and careful besides. He’s lived through some pretty intense stuff. He can handle himself.”

Koth nodded back. “Thanks. You mentioned before.”

The Colonel motioned him over. “C'mon over here! You can join us in our game. Help you take your mind off things.”

Koth obediently moved to join them when the intercom finally rang.

“Hey y’all. M’name’s Corso. I believe I’m expected, may I come in?”

* * *

Corso Riggs, like most other Ord Mantellians, had an honest and weather-beaten face. His thick, curly brown hair was worn in dreadlocks, and his eyes were brown like light chocolate. 

Corso had seemed mightily surprised by his welcome; Vaylin offered him a mug of the suberry milk with cookies, then introduced him to her friends Roban and Koth, and her little dolly Tasha before pulling up a chair and inviting him to her ‘Tea Party’. 

“I’d love to, ma’am. Really would.” By his expression, Koth guessed that the man would have given an arm and a leg for this tea party to last a little longer, but— “I’m so sorry but we need t’ leg it. We’ve been given an hour for our business before we have t’ take off again. All packed an’ ready, I hope? Good then, let’s go!”

He led them to a speeder car parked outside and helped them stow their luggage, remarking on how they’d need to get a larger wardrobe if they were to fit in where they were headed. The speeder took them not to Fort Garnik as he had been expecting, but to a private landing bay of a warehouse a ways off from the Fort.

Roban whistled in admiration when he saw the ship that Corso was taking them to. “That’s… Hey! That’s not the _Voidhound_! It’s too pretty!”

“No indeed, Colonel Sir!” Corso said, nodding proudly at the elegant modified Ardan-class Light Cruiser gleaming in dawn’s first rays. “This is the _Fool’s Gold_.”

Roban looked confused beneath his approval. “Did Captain Stede finally give up that XS-Stock Freighter of hers? I thought she was all but married to it.”

“Oh no, sir!” Corso shook his head. “Cap’n Stede is bogged down on Dubrillion with Risha and her Duke husband. I couldn’t stand it there—all those nonstop self-serving politicians and nobles. So I left. I’m working for Captain Jerre Kraot now, her ex First Mate. We ship supplies to war-torn worlds.”

Without warning, the Colonel whipped around . “Kraot?” His voice was a dangerous whisper, and his eyes had been set ablaze. “ _Kraot_?”

Corso seemed taken aback with the intense reaction. “Sir? Is something wrong? Cap’n Kraot’s a good man—”

A voice spoke up from behind them. “It’s alright Corso.” Koth turned around to see a tall, gangly male human entering the docking bay right after them. “Colonel Queens. It’s been a long time. Did you get the cakes I sent you?”

“Sure did,” the Zabrak growled. “Thanks. They tasted good.”

“Well, I’m glad!” The man stopped. His accent was… different. Koth hadn’t heard it before. “I half-thought that you might be tossing them straight in the trash.”

“Times are not so good that we can waste good food,” the Colonel’s fists were tightly balled and trembling. “Even sent by traitors.”

“ _Traitor_? Uhhh, sir—?” Corso tried to place himself between the two men but the newcomer—Captain Kraot, no doubt—gently patted his shoulder and guided him out of the way. He stood before the angry soldier, head bowed. 

“Colonel, I made a terrible mistake back when I followed Revan. I was tired of the war, and he told me he had a better alternative. In person. I knew him from before so I trusted him, I didn’t know what a monster he’d become until it was too late. You don’t know how persuasive he could be when he wanted—”

“Save it, _Captain_ !” Roban sneered. “ _You_ were the one who helped Revan get started! You introduced him to Vizla and the Nova Blades! Your network of contacts was a major factor in the size of the Revanites’ stockpile of arms and ships! And people too… Do you have any idea what it felt like to be shooting at people I’d fought beside?”

“Please sir,” Corso pleaded. “Jerre really is a good man who made a bad mistake. He’s spent the past six years atonin’ for that. Heck, Master Arro personally reached out for our help t’day!”

“Master Arro? He’s a damned Jedi!” Roban shook his head scathingly. “Their kind trust people far too easily.”

“I think he’s right to!” Vaylin protested. “He trusted me, right? And people can change.” Her words were unexpectedly wise, and broke through the Colonel’s building fury. His expression turned reluctantly thoughtful.

“Alright,” he conceded. “Now’s not the time anyway. How soon can we take off?”

“Ten minutes,” Jerre replied.

“Right then,” Roban said. “Let’s get off this world. But once we're clear, you and I will continue this conversation.”

* * *

**In Orbit around Ord Mantell**

The woman with the scarred mouth stood at her Master’s right. And, hopefully, out of view of the camera.

In attendance were her Master’s partners—people he held as his equals.

Lord Panathar, the Cathar. The Nightbrother Jhestyr. And the Togruta ex-Jedi Knight Ruvin. 

Ruvin was the only woman in the group, but the slave had seen how dangerous she was. People around her died by the hundreds. And not always by her spinning Saberstaff.

Of all the attendees, she had always felt least afraid of Jhestyr whose only contribution in most meetings was his eerie chuckling which sometimes spiralled into maniacal laughter. The other three would usually ignore him, although sometimes they would listen to his laughter, as though there were words of insight hidden underneath that ceaseless cackling.

Nonetheless, she had no desire to find herself the focus of his attention. Or any one of the four, for that matter. In another life, what felt like centuries ago, she might have had to stifle a sigh. Wishing secretly that she were strong too. But today, such rebellious thoughts were behind her. She simply quailed in fear of the Master and his allies.

“So is your business on Ord Mantell concluded, Jadus?” Ruvin asked. “Can we expect you back in the House soon?” Crisp, dispassionate, and professional. 

“I will not be returning, Sir Ruvin,” Jadus said calmly. “There has been a Disturbance in the Force. And I intend to see the quakes these echoes cause.”

“I Sensed it as well,” the Togruta replied. “And I See its effect on you even now; a stray thread that has wound itself around your neck. Be careful it doesn’t grow thicker and tighter, that it might strangle you. Indeed, that is why I had hoped you would be returning.”

“Yes, it seems a formidable enemy is on my scent now,” Jadus mused. “And that worries me. If it is who I think it is, she is dogged enough to follow my trail all the way to the House of Masks.”

“Awww, do you care for your allies?” This was Panathar. The Cathar was grinning. “Unwilling to endanger us? I am touched!”

Jhestyr guffawed loudly.

“If it indeed is Cipher Nine, I want to set a trap for her,” Jadus said. He did not sound perturbed by either man. “And the House of Masks is a poor place for one. It is our strongest fortress; and one such as her will not let her guard down in a fortress. No, I will lure her to another world, one of our storehouse worlds perhaps—one where she might think me less entrenched.”

Ruvin’s soft blue eyes glittered. “And if you are bested, you die knowing that we are still unknown to her. Your small victory against a worthy opponent. So be it.”

“And in answer to your other question,” Jadus continued. “Yes, I have completed my business on Ord Mantell. Saresh will continue to fight the Empire and the Alliance rather than join forces against the Droid, as we wished.”

“What a fool,” Ruvin said. “With a leader like her it’s a miracle the Republic hasn’t set its food reserves on fire to use as weapons against shadows.”

“What food reserves?” Panathar sneered. “The ordinary people are almost on starvation rations as it is! Not one of their worlds will last a month if there’s a siege. Two days tops if the world is Coruscant.”

“The fires of discord indeed run rampant. Wonderful work, Darth Jadus.”

He bowed his masked head slightly, then stirred . His unseen gaze turned back to the planet’s surface. “I sense the girl again. She is leaving this world.”

“She is of little concern,” Ruvin said. “But if your paths cross again, I trust you will stick to the shadows this time. Vaylin is too poor a piece to lose you to.”

Jadus nodded. 

“Then this meeting is adjourned.” Ruvin’s impassive face was the first to dissolve. Jhestyr gave an ornate bow before his feed ended.

Jadus sat silently for a short time after the conference until stirring again. This time, he looked away from the planet—and above and to the right of his ship. “It seems my ‘Disturbance’ has found me already.”

* * *

Lana knew it the instant the ship exited Hyperspace. She could sense him. 

_Jadus!_

In space, orbiting Ord Mantell. And close by. Very close by. She squinted in the direction her Senses were pointing, and she soon found him; his ship was just visible to the naked eye. Was he only now leaving the world? Such a stroke of luck! On the other hand… she considered the possibility that this was a trap, but quickly dismissed it. No one could have foreseen the time and trajectory of her arrival.

And besides, she was flying Arro’s Corvette, which was one of the most agile ships in the Galaxy; the _Silver Pilgrim_ handled like a finely tuned musical instrument. The odds were greatly in her favor.

Making her decision, she turned the ship to an intercept vector and accelerated to attack speed. She hit a key to bring up the deflector shields and before getting both of the ship’s dual-cannons to fire remotely, from the cockpit. As she got closer to the enemy ship, it became clear enough for her to identify the make—a slightly larger variant of her own Phantom class light ship from her Intelligence days. Fitting. 

But its engines were cold; the pilot had not been expecting to make a dash anytime soon—another sign that this was more chance than design.

The ship was still far outside her guns’ range though. And the moment she opened fire, she was likely to alert the meager Republic forces. Fortunately, she was in a Jedi’s ship and could hail the Republic before engaging. Perhaps they would even help her. Kaliyo’s ship was also due to arrive in five minutes.

“Ground Control, this is the _Silver Pilgrim_ ,”

“ _Silver Pilgrim_? This is Fort Garnik STC. We read you.”

“An E-type 101x “Phantom V” class Nubian ship is in orbit very close to my exit from Hyperspace. I sense Darth Jadus aboard. I’m moving to intercept. Repeat: I sense Darth Jadus and I’m moving to intercept.”

“ _What_ ???” The operator sputtered, professional manner slipping. “A Darth? Here?… Understood, _Pilgrim_. I’ll notify the Lieutenant right away. Try to take him alive if you can!”

Lana was almost in range of the ship. She inhaled, and immersed herself into the deep currents of the Force. She ignored her body’s physical senses, focusing entirely on her Force perception. With each passing second her immersion grew ever deeper and she became increasingly one with the Force and everything else that it was connected to. She was the _Silver Pilgrim_ , from nose to thrusters. She was the cannons pointed at her enemy’s vessel.

And she was the enemy ship itself, as well; and in the space of a hundredth of a second she could tell more about the ship than her scanners could. She could feel its engines warming but still not ready to begin evasive maneuvers. The shields were up however; and she could feel their protective cocoon, and its weapons were online. 

But at the angle she was approaching, Jadus’ ship couldn’t hope to get a lock on her. She could feel the pilot and copilot; and their desperation. Neither one was Jadus. Nor was the hapless gunner. Jadus was at her mercy if she could destroy the engines.

And then she was in range. Pressing the trigger she opened up all four cannons on the ship. The shields absorbed the brunt of the barrage, but the closer she got, the more concentrated her fire, and the shots started to penetrate them and damage the thick armor. She watched with deep satisfaction as the armor melted and smoked and burned. When she reached point blank range, she veered the _Pilgrim_ away from its course to avoid colliding with the ship. Then she turned around for another pass.

Again she bore down upon Jadus’ ship and again the shields and armor held up against the barrage, if only barely.

Once she’d cleared her second pass, the ship’s engines finally came alive and it started to move. It turned away from Ord Mantell, attempting to clear the planet’s Gravity Well and make for Hyperspace. Its crew was clearly prioritizing flight before fight. They would be battered but they might still make it if their shields held.

Growling, she suddenly felt annoyed with her husband for not outfitting his ship with stronger guns. But she wasn’t completely out of options. This ship had Proton Torpedoes. 

With only her at the controls, there was no one to reload them. But that didn’t stop her from firing the ones already in the chamber. She would only get one shot.

So she ignored the targeting computer and relied instead on the Force. She chased the ship, battering at its defenses with the cannons as she waited for her Senses to line up the perfect Torpedo shot. Just the right moment...

_Now!_

The Torpedoes flew true, bypassing the deflector shields. Countermeasures deployed automatically, but only one of the pair was destroyed, and even it was close enough to wound the port engine when it exploded. The other one struck the starboard engine—a clean hit! Crippled, the ship began to slow down.

Lana cheered wildly. “ _YES_!”

She started to feel giddy; she had spent the past decade worrying about what Jadus might be up to, or when he would strike next; or how many lives he would claim. She had despaired of ever finding him; felt sure that she would die without knowing what became of him.

And now she had him in her sights. His ship had stalled in the vast emptiness of space, and its shields were failing. An electronic beep informed her that someone was hailing the _Pilgrim_ and she accepted the call. 

It was the Ship’s Captain. “Please, stop firing! We surrender, we surr— aaghkkk!” he was cut off by someone—Jadus no doubt—crushing his larynx with the Force. The Captain’s body was pushed aside from the chair, and another came into the feed. The Darth himself.

 _“You,”_ he said, _“Are not Cipher Nine.”_

He sounded put out. Lana fought the smug grin that threatened to form on her face. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Actually, I must repeat those words right back to you: **_I_ ** am sorry to disappoint **_you_ **.”

Her only warning came from the Force. Moving on instinct alone, Lana veered the ship to the left just in time; the remains of the portside thruster broke off from the ship and Launched itself at her; She only just avoided it.

Other pieces of the ship began to break, and exploded outwards in a hail of swords. Her jaw dropped. She found herself the target of thousands upon thousands of daggers torn from the dying ship’s hull. The _Pilgrim_ ’s shields would never absorb such an impact! Desperately, she tried to Move them out of the way even as she tried to angle her ship away from the shrapnel, but some of the blades made it past her efforts, and tore through the hull.

Alarms began to wail at her, and she didn’t need the scanners to know that her husband’s ship was badly damaged. But it was okay, Jadus wasn’t going anywhere either—she had that one consolation prize. The ship was almost entirely gone, with only one pressurized module left.

As she had that thought, another ship emerged from Hyperspace. This one was larger; a Terminus-class Destroyer. This newcomer did not bother firing on her crippled ship, or even on the defenseless planet below. It simply scooped up the bridge of Jadus’ ship with its tractor beam. When it was safely aboard, the ship turned nonchalantly and fled back into Hyperspace.

And suddenly, against all odds, Jadus had escaped. Lana was stunned. Too stunned to move, blink, or even breathe. 

And when the shock passed, she was hit by the full force of the realization that she’d failed. 

Jadus had escaped. Again.

She blinked and realized that she was crying. That quickly turned to weeping, and in no time she was sobbing hysterically. She had never failed this hard before, and at so vital a mission at that! And the knowledge that she had threatened to swallow her whole.

She surrendered to the despair, weeping like she had rarely ever wept before, and grew deaf to all the galaxy. She didn’t respond to the hails from the surface, or from any of the ships that hastened towards her. And for once in her life, she even ignored Arro’s comforting psychic embrace.

It was over. He had escaped. And there was nothing in the Galaxy that could make that right.

* * *


	5. Escape

* * *

Kaliyo surveyed the aftermath of the dogfight from the cockpit of the  _ Schardinger’s Boom _ , her modified Siege Runner class Medium Freighter. Her Droid copilot, Rem, uttered foul curses but otherwise ignored the carnage before them. Darth Hexid and Master Raynos remained stubbornly asleep on their chairs behind her, neither having moved from their positions since they left Odessen more than eighteen hours earlier.

It was chaos. Debris from Jadus’ ship formed a deadly, expanding ring centered around the position where it had been halted. The fragments that the Sith Lord had torn out from his own ship to use as ammo against his foe. The sudden move had been wildly successful too—not only had the  _ Silver Pilgrim _ been severely damaged, the reinforcements from the surface had been spooked too. And then even though it had looked like a stubborn suicide attack, Jadus had been bailed out by the  _ Terminus _ -class Destroyer.

Beniko must have been appalled to have even her consolation prize snatched from her fingers. Kaliyo wished she could have seen the look on her face! She would have felt so pleased if the one escaping hadn’t been Darth Fuckin Jadus.

Kaliyo had arrived just in time to see the final minute or two of the showdown, and not close enough to provide any assistance. But at least she had got to see this dumpster fire blow up. She felt satisfied enough that she didn’t mind bailing the pale Sith out now.

Hailing the Boss’ ship, she called “Hey Beniko. You still with us?”

There was no response. Humming to herself, Kaliyo ran a diagnostic. The ship’s communications were still fine, as was Life Support. Only the Hyperdrive and steering had been damaged heavily. Her scan detected Beniko herself was alive and well too. Odd. Had she been knocked out?

Oh, looks like someone was trying to call  _ her _ now. Ah, it was the Boss himself. Perfect!

“Heya Jedi. What's cooking?”

_ “I have my first ever real orders for you, Kaliyo. You will be nice to Lana. You will not spread stories about her. Losing Jadus has hit her hard.” _

Hmmm, so Beniko really was upset then. In any case, Kaliyo didn’t like that almost undetectable dangerous note in the Jedi’s voice; it made her shudder all the way down to her core, and she decided she’d better obey.

“Aye aye, Jedi.” 

_ “Can you tell me what happened? One minute Lana felt pleased, the next she was quite upset.” _

“You can tell that all the way from Alderaan?” Kaliyo said. “One more reason why I’m glad  _ I’m _ not your significant other. So, let’s see… Beniko seems to have emerged from Hyperspace right on top of Jadus, and engaged him without hesitation. And she did damn good too! Shot out his engines and Hyperdrive. But then Jadus turned the back half of his ship into a hail of spears, and damaged her ship. It’ll probably need a few months in dry dock now. Might just be better if you bought a new ship.”

_ “What about Lana? And Jadus… if his engines were destroyed then how’d he get away?” _

“A  _ Terminus _ -class emerged out of nowhere and bailed him out. He must have had it on standby, just in case. Quite a hornet’s nest out there. Major shitstorm. Beniko’s okay though; but she’s not responding to calls. She might have been knocked out.”

The Jedi sighed _. “Thanks. also: I just heard from Theron. Saresh seems to have gotten wind of what went down. She wasn’t pleased. She wants Lana captured. Can you Tractor her to safety?” _

“Roger that.”

_ “One more thing… is there anything you can salvage from this? Anything from the parts Jadus left behind? Cargo, or droids, or anything?” _

Scanning the debris field, Kaliyo chuckled. “We’re in luck! An escape pod got jettisoned shortly before the explosion. A couple of people still alive in there. Want me to get it? Or should I leave it for Saresh and her lackeys.”

_ “You can leave it… if you don’t object to losing Jadus’ trail.” _

“Your Honor, I object!” She had always wanted to say that.

_ “So it’s decided then; get Lana, get the escape pod. Once they’re all on the  _ Boom _ , head to these coordinates on Contruum.” _

Kaliyo fought the urge to laugh at the Jedi use of her ship’s name. “Why Contruum? It’s a four hour jump through Hyperspace!”

_ “I saved it from an invasion led by Moff Beirand and Darth Occlus*, so I have a lot of friends there. Including one who is my go-to for repairs and overhauls _ .  _ And it’s close; you can be there in.” _

“Oh. Alright.”

_ “Also, we’ve secured the cooperation from another of your old friends; Vector Hyllus will be meeting you there.” _

“Vector, eh?” Kaliyo rubbed her chin. “Any chance you dug up Cipher Nine too? I do know she’s out there; and if there’s anyone she’ll come out of hiding for, it’s Jadus.”

_ “Sorry, she hasn’t resurfaced yet. If she does, you’ll be the first to know.” _

“Much obliged!” Kaliyo grinned at him before realizing that the call was audio-only. “What about you?”

_ “SCORPIO has started to move. I’m afraid there’s only so much we can spare against Jadus.” _

“Right,” Kaliyo acknowledged. About to sign off, she suddenly remembered one final nugget. “Hey, by the way, I saw the Destroyer’s nameplate. It’s called the ‘ _Scorpion_ ’.”

* * *

Roban sat in the lounge of the  _ Fool’s Gold _ . Koth and Vaylin were sitting on a couch facing a viewport. Koth was staring out into the blue background of Hyperspace, lost in thought again, and Vaylin was asleep, her head resting on the couch’s arm. Her breathing was soft and gentle. Much like the girl herself. That had surprised Roban—he had always pictured her, both from bias and intelligence reports—as a cruel, vicious young woman. What Koth told him about her past had surprised him, moved him to sympathize deeply. That was why he had invited himself along in the first place; his hope to see her heal from her trauma. 

He turned his attention to the small ship-in-a-globe on a nearby shelf. It was a small model of the  _ Fool’s Gold _ . Walking over to it, he took a closer look at it. He had seen it from the outside, of course, but his shock on seeing their getaway pilot had caused him to forget to take in the beautiful ship.

According to the label fitted on the display, the  _ Fool’s Gold _ was a Kanute-class medium freighter, manufactured on Kuat. Its silver-and-blue-stripes painted fuselage had the same rough shape as standard Republic Gunboats and Dropships, but its curves were much more elegant; very pleasing to behold. It also had retractable, variable sweep wings attached to its twin tail ion/jet engines, allowing it just as much maneuverability in the atmosphere as in space. It was modestly armored and shielded and armed only with a dorsal turret and a nose-gun, but it was fully equipped with a full array of countermeasures.

All in all, the ship seemed built more for speed and agility over combat, and despite his dislike for the man, Roban remembered that Kraot was one of the best pilots in the galaxy. No one would fault him for feeling confident in his ability to shake off any pursuit and weave his way through the most dangerous combat environments.

As he was stepping away from his inspection of the model, Kraot’s voice spoke over the intercom. “Colonel, if you’re not busy, can you come over to the bridge please?”

Roban caught the worried glance that Koth tossed him, and responded with a smile and a placating gesture. He was a professional; he could work with someone even if he didn’t like him. He certainly wasn’t going to shoot the man.

Leaving his pack next to the display case, he walked to the doors to the bridge. They opened before him, and he entered the cockpit to find it—as expected—spotless. Both Corso and Kraot were the type who keep their equipment well oiled and tuned to perfection. Roban approved; it was a discipline many private spacers dispensed with since they had no one to answer to, and how well a crew maintained its cockpit spoke volumes about them.

Roban walked over to an empty seat and faced the two men. The worried expressions both men wore made Roban ready himself for their earlier argument from the landing bay to continue. 

He was completely caught off-guard when Kraot hesitatingly spoke at last. “There was a dogfight in orbit. The  _ Silver Pilgrim _ came out of Lightspeed and found Jadus’ ship, and proceeded to attack it. Both ships were badly damaged in the fight, but Jadus was rescued by a Terminus-class.”

Roban took a while to process this. He knew the name ‘Silver Pilgrim’. Master Arro’s ship. And it had been damaged? In battle above Ord Mantell?

“Once again. But slower. All details.”

Corso nodded and began to speak. “We caught it through the comms as we were pulling out. The Silver Pilgrim hailed Fort Garnik and said that it had detected Darth Jadus’ ship, then proceeded t’ open fire on it. Jadus’ ship was caught off-guard and its defenses were overwhelmed. But somethin’ happened—some kind of last resort shrap bomb. The  _ Pilgrim _ got caught in the blast. Then the channel came alive with chatter about a Terminus-class destroyer. It Tractored Jadus’ ship aboard and withdrew. It didn’t attempt to fire on either the  _ Pilgrim _ or the planet.”

Kraot picked up from there. “When we made the jump, Ground Control was trying to hail Arro’s ship. There was no response.”

Roban's breath turned shaky, and he realized he was trembling. “Oh my gosh.”

“Now we don’t know what happened for certain,” Kraot said. “For all we know, it could be no worse than just communications being damaged.”

“But in the worst case scenario, the Battlemaster is dead, right?”

Kraot carefully shook his head. “I don’t think so. I heard the  _ Pilgrim _ ’s initial transmission, and it sounded like a woman speaking. You ask me, it was that Sith Lord Beniko who was flying the  _ Pilgrim _ . As for Master Arro? Didn’t he mention earlier that he couldn’t spare many resources to hunt Jadus? He had to get back to the Alliance to begin monitoring SCORPIO, he said. Unless something changed drastically, he wouldn’t have come here himself. I think he sent Beniko with the  _ Pilgrim _ to aid the hunt while he went back to Odessen.”

“So worst case scenario, it’s Beniko who’s dead,” Roban rubbed his temples. “The woman who plucked her husband from the heart of Zakuul. I worked with her on Rishi and Yavin IV. Formidable woman. I always thought that she was the deadlier of the two. If she’s gone... that’s still very bad.”

“Even the best of us die,” Kraot said mournfully. “It’s up to those of us who survive to make do and carry on the fight.”

Roban grunted his agreement. That was a soldier’s sentiment. And a Jedi’s too, he supposed. But then memories began to emerge from the dark corners he had tried to banish them to. 

Alarms were sounding. The ground shook, and the walls trembled; systems failed and circuits erupted; wires began to melt and smoke; the temperature in the room began to rise uncomfortably. The room grew so hot he had to remove his helmet, but now the thick smoke brought tears to his eyes and he started coughing and wheezing.

But all that became secondary when a woman spoke, her voice trembling with despair.  _ “I don’t want to die. Not here, not like this.” _ His heart shattered at the sound.

Suddenly he felt someone shake him by the shoulders and he came back to the present. Roban realized that his trembling had gotten worse, much worse, and both Kraot and Corso were yelling at him as though from across a great distance.

He thought Kraot was saying “Breathe, man! Don’t forget to breathe!” and Corso was rubbing his wrists, saying “It’s alright, Sir! It’s gonna be alright!”

* * *

Lana felt a mental nudge from her husband. She ignored it. To which he nudged again, more insistently—and then once again. And yet again. Irritated, she sent him a questioning thought.

_ What? _ She tried to summon an indignant mental jerk to wave away the comforting embrace he sent her; but despite herself she found her psyche leaning into the mental hug; Allowing him to comfort her. She needed comfort, she conceded. She was feeling devastated—more so than she had ever felt before. Even those early days of Arro’s captivity by the Eternal Empire hadn’t been this bad because she knew he was alive; and while he lived, she could act to free him. And action dulled the feeling of despair. 

But today… Jadus had escaped her clutches. She had him, after almost fifteen years he was right there! But he slipped away. If only she had aimed to kill from the start. She had tried, as the Republic soldier had requested, to take Jadus alive. She wanted to interrogate him—to find out what he had been doing all this time. That had been foolish, she thought furiously. If only she had kept up the barrage after the engines went down, she may have blown up the ship and killed one of the deadliest threats in the galaxy.

She felt Arro stir in her mind again. He drew her attention to the viewport, and suddenly she realized that the  _ Pilgrim _ had been tractored aboard another ship. 

She cursed as she was startled back into the real world; she was still sitting with her face in her hands. How long had she sat like this? Her cheeks were wet and sobs still escaped her lips every now and again. But by the complete lack of urgency in Arro’s touch, she considered that she might be aboard a friend’s vessel. 

She got up from her seat and looked around; the damage hadn’t been nearly as catastrophic as she’d feared—those terrible spears hadn’t gotten through the armor. Nor had life support been compromised; though main power was down.

Lowering the ramp, she stepped outside cautiously, lightsaber in her hand just in case. As she looked around a door opened and a bald humanoid wearing a dark trench coat walked in. 

“You finally with us then?” That sounded like Kaliyo. Lana breathed a sigh of relief and holstered her lightsaber.

“Yes. Appreciate the pickup.”

“Great, I—” whatever Kaliyo was about to say next died as she got a better look at Lana. “Hmmm, maybe you might appreciate a fresher even more, right? Your face looks like something from a horror flick.”

Lana cringed hard. She dug a handkerchief out of a pocket and emptied a few drops of water from her flask on it, then proceeded to rub her face vigorously before Kaliyo grabbed her shoulder. “No need for that, there’s a fresher nearby even if the  _ Pilgrim _ ’s is out of order. You can wash your face more properly.” 

Kaliyo sounded uneasy, so Lana arched an eyebrow. “Oh, nothing. I’m so used to you being the stone-face that seeing you broken down is a little frightening. Or very. Here’s the fresher. Go on. I’ll wait.”

Lana washed her face then scrubbed it clean of tear tracks and smudged makeup and looked at her reflection in the mirror. At least the evidence of her meltdown were gone, but Lana still didn’t like how upset and vulnerable she appeared. It was no wonder Kaliyo was spooked—she herself had never seen weakness of this scale on her own face. Not since she completed her trials.

She carefully wiped her face dry, wishing she had time to redo her makeup and further hide any indication that things were anything but normal. But her pack was still in the  _ Pilgrim _ . 

She sighed, pleased that her breathing was no longer shaky, and stepped out. Kaliyo was still there, as promised. 

Lana smiled, remembering the first time from years ago, how surprised she was that Kaliyo could be considerate. Few realized how reliable Kaliyo could be to someone she called a comrade.

“What’s the smile for?”

“Nothing… but thanks, Kaliyo. Really.”

Kaliyo grunted a “Don’t mention it,” then beckoned her back towards the airlock. “C’mon. You’ll be pleased to know, this wasn’t a complete bust. There was an escape pod jettisoned before Jadus’  _ Phantom _ -class blew up.” 

Lana’s heart leapt. “An escape pod? Who…?”

Kaliyo shrugged. “I dunno,” she drawled. “Slaves, attendants, lackeys? They’re still in the pod. Not doing anything.”

Lana hadn’t noticed the pod, which had been parked a short distance away from the  _ Pilgrim _ . She tried to peer inside, but the blast screen prevented her from getting a better look at anyone.

Reaching for the Force, she hit the release button inside the pod, and waited as it hissed open.

There were two people inside, both human women. Lana didn’t recognize the older one, but the younger—

“No fuckin way!” Kaliyo cursed incredulously.

“Zhorrid. Darth Zhorrid.”

The woman with the scarred mouth howled when she heard her name.

* * *

“So what now?” Kaliyo asked as she led Lana to the bridge.

“Now we make for Contruum as Arro said,” Lana sighed. “Later, when Zhorrid is feeling better, we’ll… we’ll talk to her.”

Lana didn’t know how she’d approach that particular problem. Even Kaliyo had noticed how fragile both the slaves were. The slightest push in the wrong direction could break them utterly—and they hadn’t the luxury for that. They needed answers, and as thrilled as Lana had felt at having a source like Zhorrid to interrogate she had realized that that might not be the best way to do it. They had sedated both women—after much reassuring and soothing—and had left them in the medbay to sleep, under the supervision of N8—who Lana had summoned from the  _ Pilgrim _ .

“One problem at a time.”

The door opened and they walked in. Beyond the viewport was the blue river of Hyperspace, and at the copilot’s was a droid. But in a pair of sofas behind the pilot’s post were two soundly sleeping figures whom Lana had no trouble recognizing.

Hexid snored once before starting awake, looking around blearily. 

“Are we there yet?” She asked.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Darth Occlus in my story is different from Darth Nox. I might also mention a Darth Imperius, but neither one is Akahte.


	6. Lost

* * *

**Hyperspace, aboard the Schardinger’s Boom**

Lana sat at the table in med bay, chewing on the cheese-and-orobird sandwich she had fixed for herself. As she ate, she studied her reflection in a nearby mirror—picking up the critical scrutiny from where she had left off earlier.

Like many Sith Lords—men or women both—Lana had, over time—and perhaps more consciously than she would have liked to admit—tailored her appearance to appear as intimidating as possible. Not beautiful necessary, but commanding. And more importantly, frightening. 

With the slight use of jet black eyeliner, blood red lipstick, and some stormy red eye shadow, Lana had learned how to make her naturally pale skin appear white as bone, and her burning eyes like evening suns piercing their way through a gap in dense thunderclouds. She had styled her light blonde hair to appear almost like pincers. 

The resulting face looked vampiric, and almost… artistic. Most soldiers and officials knew instantly who she was even when she was doing nothing more sinister than sipping tea. She thought she intimidated even Jedi; she still chuckled to recall how wary Master Satele had become on their first meeting.

Arro was an exception but Lana put that down to the circumstances of their first meeting rather than love at first sight. She had saved him from a watery grave on Manaan, following which even Jakarro had showered her with praises and called her the most beautiful sight for burning eyes and Arro—laughing—had agreed wholeheartedly.

They had become friends immediately, joking, teasing, swapping stories, and even sparring together. The love had come after many weeks of working together. She doubted things would have gone quite as smoothly if they had met on a battlefield. Or over a table declaring a shaky truce almost out of nowhere, as had been her first meeting with Satele and Dayl Zoran.

She had loved the look so much she had even slept in it when she could; and soon it had become so important to her that she’d begun to feel quite naked without it. Even today, Arro and Theron were among the only ones she felt truly comfortable washing away her make-up around.

She mentally kicked herself for becoming so attached to anything so superfluous. Especially given the effect it had had on her today. She had barely recognized her own face in the mirror with all the masks stripped away. In fact she still felt uneasy looking at it.

She looked at each of her features critically—her tired eyes, her upturned red nose, her small mouth, and her pale face. The only thing hiding her face now was the marriage tattoo she had had inked on her wedding day not one month ago. Behind that, the flaws jumped out from the mirror to taunt her.

The red at the tip of her nose and the rims of her eyes made her look sickly; her tense and uneasy expression, vulnerable. And another thing that jumped out—catching her with more surprise than it ought have—was the lines that had appeared on her face. She had started to look middle aged.

But why should that surprise her? She was thirty-eight years old after all. And her life had been full of trials, burdens, subterfuge, and conflicts. Of course it would show on her face. It was completely natural!

She was Lana Beniko—one of the most accomplished Sith of the era to have remained unsung. Why had she been so badly blindsided by the sight of her own, undisguised face?

At the back of her mind, Arro’s presence had attempted to soothe her troubled heart. But she had felt his own growing discomfort. Something was troubling him too; probably her own sorry mood. Soon after, her personal comm started chiming.

She grinned when she saw that it was—predictably—her husband. He was grinning right back, face almost split by his beaming smile.

“‘Ello my Love!” They both greeted at the same time, which got them both dissolving into peals of laughter. 

“So, what’s the occasion?” Lana smiled. “Calling to comfort your moping wife?”

“Actually,” Arro pretended to blush. “I’m calling because I _miss_ my darling wife.”

Lana really did blush then, and they both descended into a fit of giggles as they began to chat so animatedly that one might think they had been apart for months rather than hours.

* * *

They had talked nonstop for almost ninety minutes before Lana brought up her discomfort.

“It felt so strange… I looked into the mirror and I felt like I was looking at a stranger. I don’t recognize myself. I’m growing old, my Love! Where did that time disappear to?”

Arro frowned and chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. “I’ve thought this before often since you rescued me; perhaps I wasn’t the only one being held prisoner for five years.”

Lana frowned. Arro continued. “The whole time I was in Carbonite; you dedicated every last bit of your focus on getting me out, and ignored all else. The passage of time became as irrelevant to you as it did me. Like you’d stopped living until you had me back at your side. But unlike me, you didn’t have carbonite halting your ageing while you were thus captive.”

“To put it another way,” Lana summarized. “I’ve lost years of my life, a bit like you did?”

“Maybe closer to years of _our_ life,” Arro amended. “Time is ever working against everyone; we only get so much time alive... And in the case of couples we only get so much time together. You and I should have had five years more time together in our life… and yet we don’t. Perhaps it’s only just hit home for you what that means.”

“Well, I do wake up most mornings to see your face just as I’d remembered it,” Lana mused. “And originally there was only three years between us, not eight. This whole carbonite business really messes with age perception, doesn’t it?”

Arro paused, smiling as he took her in. “I should tell you though; you are still the very picture of beauty to me. No one else comes close”

“Yes?” Lana’s smile became a smirk. “Well Jedi have always been strange. I should know, I’m married to one. Oh, hey!” She started in mock-frustration. “When did _you_ become the wise one?”

“When losing Jadus tricked you into downplaying your worth,” Arro said, serious despite his own smirk. “We all lose sometimes. Or make mistakes. And I’m not entirely certain you’ve lost yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about the escape pod.”

Lana’s head jerked up. She had completely forgotten about that. She quickly turned to look at Zhorrid—she was still asleep, safely sedated so she wouldn’t have been eavesdropping. Not that she could shake off the feeling of insecurity.

“The trail hasn’t gone cold yet,” Arro continued after she’d turned her attention back to him. “From everything you’ve told me about Jadus, it would be disastrous if he died without his plots going to the grave with him. What has he been doing all these years? Why show himself _now_ , of all times? He won’t truly be gone until we have scoured every last one of his schemes from existence. Not to mention his allies.”

As he spoke, Lana’s mind began to work through her cloud of depression again. 

_Of course_. She thought. It was so basic, so obvious… the kind of thing she’d be thinking right away; and it had escaped her only because she was still in shock.

“We need to stop Jadus. And we need to decrypt him too. That’s why I asked you to get on this, to strike while the iron was hot. Even though I hate how this is going to eat up even more of our time together.”

“I’m already back on track, Love,” Lana told him.

“I know,” Arro nodded. “I can feel it. Your mind is razor sharp again, just like that. But I do feel like saying how much I miss you already. How much I hate Jadus for making us divide our forces.”

“I’ll add that to the list of things he has to answer for,” Lana said. ‘Razor sharp’ was so accurate a way to describe her mindset now; she suddenly felt dead serious. “Arro… about the escapees. One of them is Darth Zhorrid.”

Arro exhaled sharply. “Jadus’ daughter... Why was she with him, was she under his influence?”

“Deeper than you think,” Lana turned to study the sleeping woman. Even in sleep she was haunted; despite the potent sedative, she still seemed so tortured. “I think Jadus shattered her completely. Talking to her might yield some answers… but she seems so fragile. I feel like the slightest push might prove too extreme.She needs healing before you can talk to her properly.”

“Lana, this is a _Darth_ we’re talking about. One of the Dark Council, no less.”

“Titles she inherited from her Father; titles she wasn’t ready for, and never lived up to. And she knew it. Admitted it to herself, privately. Aside from all of his abuse, she hated Jadus for leaving this role to her prematurely. If she had time, she believes she could have been a great Darth, but that Jadus didn’t give that to her… and it stung even worse when she realized that Jadus had faked his death. She feels she was permanently marked as a child and a fool thanks to him; and I wouldn’t say she’s wrong. If nothing else, she is the enemy of our enemy.”

“When you put it like that, she sounds like Vaylin,” Arro noted. “Alright then, the hunt for Jadus and the _Scorpion_ is completely in your hands anyway. Play this as you see fit.”

“I won’t take long.” _I’ve no plan to lose another five years of our precious time_.

* * *


	7. Updates

* * *

Koth clumsily fished his personal comm out of his pocket to receive the incoming call. He tried to hide his disappointment that it was the Outlander.

“‘Sup, Outlander?”

_ “Hey Koth. You guys in Hyperspace yet?” _

“Uh-huh. Made the jump some hours ago.”

He nodded, appearing relieved. _“Good. At least your getaway went mostly unnoticed. I called to tell you that Lana came out of Hyperspace above Ord Mantell right on top of Jadus’ ship. There was a skirmish, but Jadus escaped. Lana’s shaken, but unharmed.”_

Koth felt his concern for Lana intermingled with some dismay that they had been so close, and he hadn’t got to see her. “How’d this happen? Why was she coming to Ord Mantell?”

_ “She’s encountered Jadus before, way back when he was a member of the Dark Council. He went into hiding shortly after he was exposed attempting a terrorist attack on Imperial worlds, and she has always been afraid of what he might be up to in hiding. So, when he attacked you and Vaylin, we thought it best that she join the team sent to investigate.” _

“Oh, I see!” Koth felt a bit smug that there was something out there that Lana gave a higher priority than her husband. He wasn’t the center of her universe after all!    
Dammit why was he okay with being so petty?

_ “Still, she got closer to catching him than anyone’s ever been before. Watching him get away nearly shattered her.” _

That got through hard. “What? Zildrog’s scaly iron balls! How is she?”

The Outlander sighed, shaking his head. “I just got off the holo with her. You know Lana; she’s never failed this big before.”

“Damn, I’ve seen that happen to soldiers before,” Koth shuddered. “It ain’t pretty, having such a swell win streak broken.”

_“Yeah,”_ the Commander said. _“We’ve all seen it, but are never really prepared when it’s us that it happens to.”_

Koth nodded, praying to the Old Gods and even to the Force that Lana would recover soon.

_“But she did get a consolation prize,”_ The Jedi continued. _“A possible source of intel. And a few leads. She’s feeling much better since I got off the comm with her.”_

“Great,” Koth smirked. “So where does that leave us?”

_“You will be laying low for a while,”_ the Outlander answered. _“I’ve gotten some friends to lay a false trail. Lana and the others will pour over what they’ve learned, and when we’re reasonably certain you’re clear… then you can move on.”_

“Move on where?”

_ “We’ll decide later,”  _ he answered, looking unhappy. _ “For the time being, I hope you and Vaylin can enjoy the peace and quiet. Can you see to it Vaylin enjoys this as much as she can?” _

“Oh-kay,” Koth said dubiously. “Wanna tell me why?”

_ “It’s just my suspicion… but Vaylin regressing may have partly been her wish. After all her childhood was ended abruptly by her Father’s orders. Maybe on some level, she wants to feel like that child again.” _

Understanding dawned. “Ohhh! Now I get it! It does make sense when you say it like that! Except… the brain doesn’t really work that way, does it?”

_ “This may be a bit beyond conventional science, given how Sith Rituals were such a big factor in her breaking and binding; not to mention her own significant connection to the Force.” _

“Got it.”

_“And you take care too, Koth,”_ the Jedi said gently. _“You need this time off too.”_ What was that supposed to mean? _“I’ll call you again in a couple of weeks.”_

The line went silent, leaving Koth alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Soon after Lana had left with the  _ Pilgrim _ , Arro had requested an update from Jasme Shan; a report of the goings-on from the past month. The document she sent him was a hundred and twenty-nine pages long, and although it was largely a dossier of new recruits of note, there had also been reports of SCORPIO’s activities. As such, he had already gone over it several times already, trying to plan his people’s moves while predicting SCORPIO’s. He was going over it again now, seated in the passenger’s seat of the shuttle the Alliance had sent for him.

He ran through the dossiers, hoping it would help him think of deploying his growing forces. Some of the new recruits were famous heroes and specialists, some dangerous criminals, some others of dubious reputation at best, but every one of them were exceptional. 

_ Provost Marshall Fideltin Rusk _ : Arro’s former comrade from during his years as the Republic’s Lance; who had spent the past three years hunting down criminals and offering them a last chance to do some good as part of his new unit: the Dead Man’s Legion.

_ Skadge _ : the Houk career criminal who had single-handedly taken over a large chunk of Black Sun through sheer brutality alone (and who had been only narrowly apprehended by Rusk, with aid from the Alliance).

_ Qyzen Fess _ : Trandoshan hunter and former companion of Jedi Master Dayl Zoran.

_ Ciril Deestrom _ : the best pilot of the super elite Squadron 637 aka the ‘Crazy Sharks’ Squadron.

The legendary Arkanian  _ Karmen Bolevar _ , famous for her superb leadership of the Caridan Resistance.

The rest of the roster was likewise impressive. Arro was pleased to see that over two hundred Jedi and Sith had been found who had gone into hiding following the Zakuul’s invasion; and every one of these had reemerged to join the Alliance rather than return to the Republic or the Sith Empire. There were no Darths or Greater Lords among them, but it was good to have three Jedi Masters to aid in teaching new candidates: the Ithorian Choza Raabat, Kel Dor Ostar-Gal, and Kira’s former Master and Mother figure Bela Kiwiiks. 

Almost as good was the return of seventeen Knights from the former ‘Sixth Line’, a squad of Jedi Commandos; their inclusion would add an element he had never had before, and which SCORPIO might never fully grasp. He was eager to meet them, perhaps learn from them. 

He was going to need their help; for though SCORPIO lacked a Force sensitive element in her arsenal, she would undoubtedly try to compensate in some manner or other. According to Alliance reconnaissance, SCORPIO had set up large new factories to build up her naval and armed forces. The Eternal Fleet—whose numbers had been somewhat reduced in recent months—was expected to recoup those losses within the year.

What was more, they suspected the factories to be developing new War and Tank Droid models to deploy alongside Skytroopers, perhaps to even replace them entirely.

The cities of Zakuul had been completely subjugated by SCORPIO’s new regime, and though several tens of thousands had escaped captivity thanks to a resistance led by Akahte, the bulk of the population was now housed in prison camps. Only time would tell what SCORPIO had planned for them—though Arro dreaded guessing what those plans might be. It pained him to not be moving to save the prisoners from their fates, but with the blockade in place, a large-scale rescue mission would have been impossible.

And the Alliance had not been idle during his absence, doing its utmost to prepare for the war even if their Commander was away. Their main headache had been trying to get as many resources as possible through the blockade to aid the renegade Zakuulans. It wasn’t just aid they sent them, but also equipment, weapons, building materials, worker droids, and expert combat trainers.

In addition, agents on-world combed what had been the underworld of Zakuul, hoping to find SCORPIO’s new Throne. But they had turned up empty. If they had, they had Arro’s clearance for a full-fledged assault—costly though that would be. But of course it had not been that simple, and now the quiet preceding the storm was ending.

After Vaylin’s explosive display of power following the Battle of Odessen, the orbital blockade around Zakuul had become far less efficient in intercepting small craft and shipments from making it through, but that would end soon, for SCORPIO was back in control.

Thankfully, she had not pulled back all ships to tighten the noose—a possibility Arro had feared. She had redeployed the fleet to assert control over key systems. She had secured those worlds closest to Zakuul which were rich mineral deposits.

Thankfully, this had been a logical step for an up-and-coming conqueror, so the Alliance had managed to evacuate the worlds and seal all the mines and refineries. It would take SCORPIO time to get the gears of her war machine running, and they needed every precious day they got.

* * *

  
  



	8. Arrival

* * *

**Ord Mantell. Governor’s Office, Worlport**

Laszlo Pavlov, Governor of Ord Mantell, had been unfortunate enough to have been the focus of former Supreme Chancellor Leontyne Saresh before. It was an occupational hazard of being Governor of a world home to a notorious shadowport. But his secretary, Roger Willis, was amazed at how unfazed his boss was under her furious glower. All the more since Saresh seemed particularly livid today; she was shrieking so loudly that the glass on the display case was trembling, and spittle visibly flew from her mouth. Not to mention, she wasn’t calling via holo today; she was here in person, having come to Ord Mantell on some private business.

“YOU BLOODY INCOMPETENT!” She screamed. “YOU INCURABLE NITWIT! HOW IN THE BLAZES HAVEN’T YOU EVAPORATED FROM THE SHAME OF BEING SUCH A USELESS NINCOMPOOP?”

Pavlov held his ground with an ease Roger envied. “Sorry, ex-Chancellor,” was his cool reply. Saresh swelled violently, but he continued before she could continue her tirade. “Ord Mantell isn’t equipped to handle a situation like this. There is a severe shortage in basic amenities like food and water alone; supplies like fuel and munitions are a luxury. We’re pretty low on the priority list for resupply, especially since last month’s Senate’s budget meeting. I hear that it was at your insistence? Our local garrison is merely a law- and peacekeeping force. Again, a product of your work, ex-Chancellor. And frankly, you shouldn’t have this level of pull in the Senate since you are _ex_ -Chancellor. Or anywhere for that matter. Your term limits have long since expired. Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do. Please see yourself out, ex-Chancellor.”

Saresh didn’t budge. Her voice dropped in volume, but oozed with basilisk venom. Her face took on a mask of a particularly vengeful rancor. “Choose your words carefully, Governor. You do not want me as an enemy.”

“No I don’t,” Pavel agreed. “The one who seems to want that is _you_. Explain to me how you expect me to handle a rogue Darth with my hands tied as they are.”

“You think this is about Jadus?” Saresh sneered. “He hasn’t made a significant move in ages. It was _Beniko_ whose head I wanted on a platter.”

“Supreme Commander Jace Malcom himself called me to tell me quite the opposite; that Jadus was the important one, and that I was to allow the Odessen Alliance to join the investigation when they arrived.”

“Yes, I will have words with Jace later,” she drawled. “Has it not occurred to you that the Alliance is a foreign power, and a grave threat?”

“They took down Arcann and his regime like it was nothing,” he answered. “They have only ever been worried about Zakuul. And their Commander is a Jedi.”

“An _ex_ -Jedi,” Saresh countered. Her use of the same prefix Pavlov had used was likely intentional. “He betrayed the Republic a decade ago. _Abandoned_ us. His assassination of Emperor Valkorion was what caused Arcann’s war for crying out loud! He publicly announced his marriage to a Sith for heavens’ sake! The same Sith you allowed to get away! And the fact that they are powerful enough to oust Arcann is precisely why you should be considering them dangerous! You shouldn’t have allowed Beniko to escape; with her in custody we’d have some kind of bargaining chip with their Commander.”

“ _You_ are a far bigger danger to the Republic than Master Arro could ever be. And I see you like spouting debunked Zakuulan propaganda whenever it suits you. ‘Ex-Jedi’? It’s not like there are many working for the Republic after Arcann’s War. As for Beniko? I served on Yavin IV. I fought beside her; she had my back and I had hers. Working with her gave me hope for peace between the Republic and Sith. And to all of us soldiers who fought there. I can understand exactly why Master Arro could see past her background. And don’t try to intimidate me; I have spoken to Sith of the same caliber as Darths Marr and Nox and Prowle; you are nothing next to them. Now please, leave.”

Saresh’s lips worked wordlessly for a minute, but in the end she failed to utter anything more sophisticated than “You will deeply regret your words today, Governor. I will have you drawn and quartered for this.” 

She spun on her heel and walked away. 

“Funny how she was on Ord Mantell so soon after the budget cuts she imposed on us,” Governor Pavlov remarked. “Funny that a ‘washout’ Darth was here when he was.”

“I wonder what her private business was, Sir,” Roger stammered, mopping the sweat from his brow.

“Better if you didn’t, my boy!” the Governor said. “That woman is an asp. Real shame; she was once a woman to be admired—rising from Imperial slave to the head of the Republic! She has done some truly good work in her time before she became Chancellor. But her thirst for Sith blood and addiction to power have turned her into something… rancid.” 

He shook himself and firmly turned his back on the earlier unpleasantness. “Now let’s get back to work. We need to organize those food shipments to Mannet Point, Talloran, and Oradam.”

“Yes Sir.”

* * *

**Contruum, Vanier Shipyards**

Kaliyo’s Ship had landed in the Hangar they’d been directed to. They had been expected, and their welcome had been enthusiastic; Edwina Vanier, the CEO of the wealthy Vanier Heavy Industries, had personally received them and congratulated Lana on her wedding.

“We’ve been informed of your investigation. I’ve taken the liberty of arranging accommodations for your team, and a base of operations.”

“I am deeply grateful, Madame,” Lana answered graciously. “I look forward to my stay here. But I do have a request I’d like to make. There was an incident above Ord Mantell, and I was piloting Arro’s ship at the time. It was severely damaged.”

“Not to worry, Lady Beniko!” The Arkanian woman smiled. “I will have my best crews working on it; You’ll have it back by the end of the year, better than new.”

“I appreciate it,” Lana grinned.

“One other thing,” Vanier said. “As there are current and former Imperial members in your team, I must insist on keeping some of my own people with you while you are on Contruum. Your movements here will be monitored, as a precaution. Rest assured, word of this will not leave Contruum.”

Lana had expected precautions such as these. “I understand, Miss Vanier, and I promise we’ll be on our best behaviour. We welcome your people since this way we can prove that we have not taken advantage of your good faith.”

“Enjoy your stay on Contruum,” Vanier said before returning to her office.

“Pass on the message to the team,” Lana said. “We really are going to be on our best behaviour.”

She chuckled at Kaliyo’s expression of severe disappointment. “Don’t worry,” She added. “Contruum has its swoop racing circuits and wrestling pits. You can blow off steam whenever you need it.”

Kaliyo scoffed. “Yeah, well I won’t hold my breath. You’re gonna make this up to me sometime, Beniko; I don’t do docile.”

“You get to kick Jadus in the teeth when we have him.”

“Sold!”

* * *

They had made a beeline for their allotted accommodations; they had been given the company executive resort, complete with droid staff and fully equipped with luxury amenities like a spa, a tranquil lake, clusters of flowering trees, and wide open meadows. Lana wondered why Arro hadn’t elected to spend their honeymoon here—it was many times more opulent than the cottage they had stayed in on Alderaan.

Their base was a short distance away—a forty-five minute hike up a lightly forested hill. There was a speeder for urgent meetings and those who preferred it but nearly everyone in the team approved of the chance to exercise a little.

They were settling in when they got a notice from Vanier’s secretary, letting them know that Vector Hyllus had arrived on Contruum. He turned up an hour later at the resort, aboard an unmarked but elegant diplomatic shuttle. He stepped out, accompanied by a pair of Killik drones and several protocol and utility droids.

He was dressed in an ornate red silk robe with a beautiful ouroboros of black, gold, silver, and orange embroidered on it. He had a ceremonial rapier at his belt, along with a small hold-out blaster pistol.

His hair had grown since his years with Intelligence, and was shoulder length. It was slicked back elegantly, with a few loose strands over his eyes. There were also streaks of grey in his hair that made him look dashing and mature.

But his eyes were still the same: the pitch-black, sclera-less eyes of the Killik Joiner. Calm, cool, insect-like. Attractive to some, unsettling to others.

Kaliyo wolf-whistled. “Your new look suits you Vector!”

“Thank you, Kaliyo,” he answered pleasantly. “It is good to see you again. And Lord Beniko!” He gave her a deep bow. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I have heard a great deal about you.”

“Mostly exaggerated, I’m sure,” Lana chuckled politely, returning his bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too. I look forward to working with you. I hear that you’ve crossed paths with Jadus before.”

“Indeed I did,” Vector nodded. His tone and expression were as neutral as ever, but Lana could sense his anger. “Along with Cipher Nine and Watcher Two—who would become Keeper shortly afterwards—and our sweet Kaliyo too.” Kaliyo blew him a raspberry. 

Ignoring her, Vector continued. “His Ravager plot was truly horrific. I am glad we were able to stop it, but the foul traitor himself escaped. I have never felt safe knowing he might still be out there.”

“Likewise, Vector,” Lana admitted. “I encountered him once before too, years ago.” She shuddered. “I’d rather not go into the details. I barely escaped with my life. I would love to see an end to his threat.”

“Then we are on the same page, my Lord,” Vector said. “I pledge to fight alongside you on this. My extensive contacts and connections are at your disposal. As does the Hive; through me, they understand how deadly he is. Killiks everywhere will aid us in our hunt for not only Jadus, but any of his associates.” His Killik friends clicked in response.

Lana was delighted. “That really is a big help, Vector! Thank you for joining us.”

* * *

**Odessen**

The Shuttle docked at Hangar Bay Seventeen—the ‘Graveyard’, as it was called since it also housed the _Gravestone_ . The bay was full of bustling technicians and ground staff working around the clock to keep the ship in working order; for despite its power, the _Gravestone_ was a particularly high-maintenance warship. Perhaps that wasn’t too surprising given how it had been left to decay in the swamps for so many decades; any ordinary ship might be turned to scrap right away, or at least sent for extensive inspections and rework that might last several years. The _Gravestone_ had instead been repeatedly rushed to the front lines with only the most urgent of repairs, and this was something they would have had to pay for eventually.

After landing from its most recent flight during the Battle of Odessen, half its circuits had fried from the exertion and it had been in Dry Dock ever since. All systems—Hyperdrive, Propulsion, Shields, Life Support, Power Generation, and Communications—were all down. 

While they were working to repair it, the scientists and engineers from the Technology Enclave had also poured over it stem to stern, attempting to learn its workings and rebuild it better than before. Unfortunately for them, no one quite understood how the Heart of the Gravestone—the source of its destructive power—worked. The best they could do was to modernize the ship’s circuitry and systems. In addition, the Commander had asked them if they could find a way to reroute power from the Heart to the Shields as well to allow for a near-infinite shield that could make the vessel indestructible, but it had proven difficult: they could not reinforce the shields without denying the power required to fire the Omni cannon. 

The shields could be reinforced during flight, but that would mean sacrificing the ability to fire the powerful cannon until the ship had landed and powered down for a few hours. As it turned out, it couldn’t be the Mightiest Spear and the Impenetrable Shield both at the same time.

The Commander had laughed, said that he would rather never have to fire the Cannons again. This had displeased many, but Admiral Aygo had reminded them that they hadn’t been ordered to decommission the weapon outright, and that any Super Weapon was not supposed to be used lightly anyway. “The Commander,” he had argued, “is exercising caution rather than blindly following the typical Jedi pacifism. (Sorry Commander).” 

Even Doctor Oggurobb had supported the Commander, saying “We don’t know where the Gravestone’s power comes from, or how it functions; we don’t want it to backfire on us thanks to overuse and ignorance. It came too close to that already in that latest Battle. I don’t trust powerful technology I don’t fully understand.” After that there had been fewer complaints at least, though some in the Alliance felt a little vulnerable without their most prized asset.

With most of the Alliance busy at work or deployed off-world, Farya was one of the few waiting with Theron to welcome the Commander when he returned.

When the Commander descended the boarding ramp everyone in the hangar turned to salute and cheered wildly, but had gone back to their tasks in minutes, leaving the Commander and his welcoming committee to themselves.

“Welcome back Commander,” Theron said. Farya always blushed slightly when she heard Theron speak; he was quite an attractive man, but whenever his voice was something that never failed to raise a sigh from her lips at least twice a day. Such a shame he was already married!

“Hello Theron,” Arro greeted him. “Jasme’s report has me more or less up to speed.” He turned to the new face in his welcome. “Ah, and you must be the esteemed Brigadier General Karmen Bolevar?” He shook her hand enthusiastically. “It is a real pleasure to have you here; your work is the stuff of legends!”

“Quite a compliment, coming from you, Commander!” The Arkanian woman saluted. “It is my honor to be here. If you don’t mind, I am eager to get to work again. I want to discuss my deployment.”

“Already, Brig General?” Theron asked. “Let the man breathe, he’s only just arrived.”

“The orbital defenses around Zakuul could tighten at any minute lad,” she reminded him. “I excel at guerilla warfare, love it even! And why not? It is my calling! There is nothing more satisfying than making an invader’s life miserable by forcing them to hunt for rats. Plus, the sooner you have a Commander with prime experience in asymmetrical warfare down there, the more good it’ll do you. I can train them to be a powerful army. Fewer casualties, better battle readiness and coordination, and a force to strike at their rear when you arrive. Let me leave, Commander. You don’t even need to send that many troops with me! Just me and twelve men and women, and some gear and supplies. We can leave within the next hour, just you give the command.” 

“Alright General,” the Comander said, appearing quite taken aback with her passion. “But you’re taking twenty six commandos, a corps of Engineers, and all the equipment you need to set up a command post. And you will leave tomorrow.”

“Yes sir,” she seemed thrilled to finally have her mission.

“And there is one thing I should mention; Akahte.”

“Darth Nox,” she spat, her expression turning ugly. “A former member of the Dark Council.”

“Indeed,” the Commander sighed. “She’s a friend so try to be nice to her. We fought together on Yavin IV and Ziost. She was much nicer and more reasonable than you would believe.”

“I’ll be nice if I have to,” the Brigadier General grumbled. “But she better not get in the way.”

“From past experience, I know she doesn’t interfere. But she will insist on being nominally in charge. Or at least, outside your command structure. But as I said, she won’t question your better experience.”

“I can work with that,” she agreed.

“Then you can start making your preparations,” the Commander said. “Choose anyone you want going with you; Admiral Aygo can help you fill your roster.”

“I’m all over it!” she declared before marching off.

“Well that was quite the welcome,” Theron remarked.

“Time hasn’t slowed while I was away, so it was always my intention to hit the ground running,” the Commander shrugged. “Anything else urgent that needs my attention?”

“Not as such,” Theron shook his head and nodded at Farya. “But Farya had a request of her own to make.”

“Commander,” Farya started. “If it’s alright, I want to hear about the attack on Vortena and Princess Vaylin.”

* * *

**Chandrila**

Koth was sampling some of the gorak legs when the Comm chimed. “We are almost at our destination and will be emerging from Hyperspace in five minutes,” Captain Kraot announced. “All passengers—”and he sniggered here “—buckle up and prepare for reentry. We will make landfall twenty minutes after emerging, and we request you to remain in your seats until the craft has come to a full stop. We thank you for choosing to fly with us.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” Vaylin cried enthusiastically. She tugged on Roban’s arm. “Come on, uncle Roban! You heard the Captain! We need to buckle up!”

Koth’s heart warmed at the scene. With every passing day he felt more and more comfortable around Vaylin—once feared for her volatile temper and violent retributions. 

_Is this the real Vaylin?_ He wondered. _Then who was that other woman? Did Valkorion really turn her into_ that _?_ _What would Vaylin have been like if she had had a better childhood?_

Another big change was Colonel Queens. Whatever discussion he’d had with Kraot in the cockpit had left him in the throes of a violent panic attack. Once it had passed, he had wept bitterly, and the only words he had said were “I’m so sorry, Jax! I’m so sorry!”

He had eventually calmed down, and Kraot had administered the Colonel’s medication, allowing him to sleep. The big man had woken up quiet and sad; his eyes seemed to stare into the distance, and Vaylin had taken it upon herself to be his caretaker. It was actually really cute, and Koth couldn’t wait to share this story with the others from Zakuul; that of the energetic, compassionate Princess she could have been.

But he feared for Roban; the man had seemed to have relapsed deep into his depression. He wondered what he should do. What would Lana do? Or Senya? Or the Outlander?

No doubt they’d try talking to him, but careful therapy was not what Koth was good at.

He continued to ponder the question until the ship had landed.

“Local time is 0700 hours,” Corso called. “It’s a pleasant 18 degrees out there, with rain expected later today. Welcome to Chandrilla.”

They’d heard from several sources that Chandrilla was one of the more serene worlds out there; not only in climate, but also in fortunes: the war had never truly made it here. As a result, most people here didn’t know the war except as this boogeyman. And sure enough, Koth stepped out into the sunlight, he found the world a dozen different kinds of pleasant.

The skies were teal, the distant mountains were purple. A clear stream flowed nearby, the sound of its flowing waters did much to put Koth at ease. Several nerfs grazed lazily nearby, having completely ignored the rude interruption caused by the ship’s landing. 

Upon further inspection, Koth realised that they had landed, not in a spaceport, but in a small estate. The building was made of stone white as snow, and shone in the morning sun. And they had a welcome arranged too; a remarkably beautiful woman with light caramel-brown skin and small eyes, dressed in a mint green gown awaited them. She was pregnant; perhaps a few weeks from full term.

Aside from attendant droids, there were two young boys with her; neither appearing more than ten years old.

The woman glowed with happiness and waved at Koth and the others as they disembarked. “Welcome to Chandrilla, honored guests!” She called, curtseying formally. “I trust you had a safe flight?”

“Thank you, Madam,” Koth stammered as he attempted to bow. “Yes, the flight was quite uneventful.”

“Uneventful is good in these troubled times,” the woman said. “Or any time for that matter.”

Koth nodded furiously. Behind him, the others had piled out of the ship.

“Daddy!” One of the boys squealed and ran towards Captain Kraot, who knelt and enfolded him in a fierce hug. “Alan! I’m so glad to see you again! Did you miss your daddy?”

The boy nodded energetically, then broke off from his dad’s embrace and fished something out of his pocket.

“Daddy, I made you something!”

“Ohhhh my gosh, that’s so sweet!” Kraot squealed with exaggerated delight as he took the necklace of seashells from his son. “It’s beautiful! Thank you so much.” He patted his son’s hair, and the boy swelled with pride. “And I have something for you,” he gave the boy a small gift wrapped box. The boy could not contain his eagerness to open the present.

Kraot turned to the others. “My good people, this is my family. My wife, Cedonia of House Terann, and my sons Alan and Mark.” The boy named Alan waved heartily, but Mark stood silently. Unlike his brother, he hadn’t moved, nor made a sound.

“More formally, I am Lady Cedonia Terann, Herald of the Gold Aurora.” Cedonia said. A noblewoman; that explained the slightly stuffy manner. Nevertheless, Koth found he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Kraot walked up to her and bowed, taking her hand. “My Lady. May I?”

She arched an eyebrow, considering his request. “You may,” she said, upon which they both closed the distance between them and kissed with a powerful passion, moaning and sighing into each other’s faces as they did so. 

Corso coughed slightly and the two broke apart, breathing hard and flushed from their reunion. “Apologies. It has been several months,” Kraot said, not appearing the least bit abashed or apologetic. He next knelt before his silent son. He didn’t speak, didn’t attempt to hug him as he had his smaller brother. Instead, he pulled a small box with a from his pocket and wound a lever at its side. 

It produced soft, gentle, high-pitched musical notes like a lullaby. The boy listened to it, eyes sparkling. He gave his father a wide smile and carefully took the box, winding it gently to continue the soulful melody. His whole attention now seemed focussed on it.

“Welcome to my home,” Kraot said as he turned back to his passengers. “Please, consider yourselves our guests. Anything you need, we are at your disposal.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not certain if Chandrilla really was relatively unscathed from the wars. I am making it so in this fic coz there's a little something I wanted to highlight here in the next few chapters.


	9. The Ninth Dragoons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> struggling a bit at the moment, but thought this little chapter was what it needed to be

Lady Beniko wasted little time getting down to business. But that wasn’t to say she dispensed with the pleasantries; refreshments were offered along with the team’s first meet and greet. Nothing too fancy, but certainly satisfying. And contrary from what would be expected of any Sith, she made sure to engender a feeling of equality among her team. 

“We’re all friends here,” she said. “Some of us have suffered from his actions, some have faced him before—” she nodded at Vector and smirked at Kaliyo “—and the rest of us simply want a good time.” The Zabrak Darth Hexid cackled appreciatively. “Oh, and we have some Jedi too, who understand what damage a megalomaniac Sith Lord can cause.” Master Ranos mock-yawned.   
“So what matters is that we focus all of our attention—all of our energies—on our mission. Don’t worry about decorum or protocol. And no infighting. Definitely no dismemberment. It is my hope that we be done with this as quickly as possible. I  _ do so _ want to get back to my darling husband. I miss him already.”

More chuckles.

“Our team is small for the moment, only the nine of us. But as and when needed, more resources can be given to us. And we have some analysts reporting to us from Odessen and elsewhere. My droid N8-J01 and a few more droids will look for any information on friendly databases and networks that might help us. Any questions so far?”

“Yeah!” Kaliyo piped up. “Does our team have a name?”

“I was thinking of the ‘Ninth Dragoons’. Too fancy?”

“No, it’s as good a name as any,” Vector answered quickly, forestalling Kaliyo. “I’ve heard worse names from Kaliyo and Cipher Nine.” Kaliyo howled with laughter. “I’ve a question though. Why were we redirected here? Why not Ord Mantell, where the trail was?”

“Because I unexpectedly ran into Jadus in Ord Mantell’s orbit,” Lady Beniko said. “There was a firefight, and Saresh got word. Apparently she was more interested in catching me than Jadus. She doesn’t think Jadus is a threat since he hasn’t done anything of note in ages, but with me in her custody she thinks she can bring the Alliance to heel.”

“She does not support the Alliance? Not even with its Commander being a Jedi?”

“No,” the Lady’s eyes crinkled. “She sees any force that’s not her own as a potential threat. And why Contruum? Because Arro’s ship was damaged badly. He has many friends on Contruum as well as an understanding with Vanier Heavy Industries. He will undoubtedly need it soon; it’s fast and nimble, and as useful in running blockades as it is in surviving the hottest zones of an orbital battle. Ideal for someone like Arro. But to answer your unspoken question about how we can investigate Jadus’ trail from here, we have allies on Ord Mantell who forwarded us all of the findings. And we have other leads as well, that we can use. But we can get to those tomorrow, once we’ve set up shop and rested from our journey. We can start at dawn.”

_ Interesting start, _ Vector thought  _ though I don’t know if we can call it auspicious. But we have certainly begun this in style. _

* * *

Setting up the base didn’t take very long at all; Lady Beniko had already swept the buildings for bugs before Vector had arrived, and all equipment had already been installed during the construction of the resort.

Which gave a chance for the team to relax and get to know one another.

There were nine of them, as the Lady had mentioned earlier; other than Kaliyo and himself there were the two Killiks Khriik and Arrkhel. There was Jedi Master Ranos, the Darth Hexid, and two Droids N8-J01 and T7-01. Lady Lana was team leader, and Kaliyo’s willingness to follow her lead reinforced Vector’s intuition about the Sith’s competence.

Not that he had ever questioned it—this was the woman called the Revansbane from her dogged pursuit of the Revanites, and who had swiped Zakuul’s enemy number one right out from under their noses. But earning the obedience of an abrasive anarchist like Kaliyo required skill in a different field, and that Lady Lana had these was something highly admirable.

Ranos was a Jedi who—even before the resumption of the Great War—had lost faith in the Jedi and their Council; but not the spirit of her Order itself. She had walked the path of the Light, and had joined the Alliance after seeing its potential and hoping to be part of something bigger again. Despite her absolute control over her emotions, her pheromones betrayed a vulnerability; doubts that she struggled with beneath the surface.

Darth Hexid was a Dathomiri Zabrak who had likewise turned her back on the Dark Council following the lengthy string of defeats that the Empire had suffered following the killing of the Sith Emperor. Unlike Ranos, she didn’t seem to harbour any doubts. She knew what she wanted—thrills and chills on the battlefield, with perhaps the occasional orgy—and she was willing to follow the Jedi Battlemaster because he had—in her estimation, which was probably not wrong—proven his strength by besting such mighty foes as the Sith Emperor, Darth Malgus, Revan Reborn, Emperor Valkorion, and now Emperor Arcann.   
In fact, her approval of the Commander was so high, the taste of the air around her hinted that she might have attempted to get him into her own bed if it were not for her similar approval of Lady Beniko, and also for the two as a pair ^.

Lana introduced the Droid T7-01 as ‘honorary Jedi’, and not even Kaliyo laughed at that, which gave Vector pause.

The Killiks did not speak much, but when they did, Lady Beniko understood their words, which improved their own respect for her. Rare was the Sith who bothered to learn many languages when it was perfectly acceptable to use a translator, and the Killik language was restricted only to their world—which made many who did not live there see it as a waste of effort to learn.

_ Interesting _ Vector found himself thinking again. He hadn’t been part of a team with such promise since he had worked with Cipher Nine. This comforted him, since the mission of the Ninth Dragoons was to bring to justice one of the few targets who had escaped her.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^ Hexid is a sucker for a good ship


	10. Scars

* * *

**Nar Shaddaa**

The clock had struck midnight in this section of the Smuggler’s Moon a while ago, but far from even showing signs of sleep, the neighborhood continued business just like it had during the day; the party never ended in Nar Shaddaa. 

Cantinas were eternally open, as did the doors to any and all businesses—at least for those who had credits to spend—and speeders swarmed the night sky as thick as they did during the day. On the streets of the poorer sectors vendors continued hawking their wares, with even spice deals openly taking place so long as they had the blessing of the Hutt cartels.

Only richer establishments were sound-proofed, poorer districts not so much. The chaotic din was dreadful; so terrible that one couldn’t sleep until they got used to it after days of effort. Lana had been to Nar Shaddaa many times in the past but each time she had to begin the acclimatization process anew. Each time she had left after her previous visits she had fervently prayed that she would never find herself on this world again. 

Yet here she was, once again. If one wanted information, Nar Shaddaa was invariably on the itinerary. But tonight was proving bad even for a first night on Nar Shaddaa.

Lana was choking back sobs; the stump of her amputated right arm felt like it was being bathed in flames. It had been a little over a month since she was wounded during the Battle of Odessen. Regular Kolto treatments had long since mended the flesh and Healing Meditations her soul, but the phantom pain that too often accompanied lost limbs.

Oh how it ached! She wanted nothing more than to express her pain somehow; screaming at the top of her lungs, or firing waves of Force Lightning at the unsuspecting Dejarik holotable. Something, anything!

Locking herself up in her cheap hotel room and crying softly into her pillow was not her favourite way of waiting for the pain to pass. She was so badly indisposed, she had asked Kaliyo to go on and investigate Jadus’s movements without her. Kaliyo wanted Jadus dead as badly as Lana herself did, but Lana had never liked delegating something this important to someone outside of her inner circle.

She tried not to picture the trigger-happy Rattataki terrifying the local gangsters and leaving behind a strong impression for anyone on the lookout to notice. They couldn’t wait for Lana to recover; sometimes these episodes lasted days. And they had to move before Jadus could cover his tracks again.

 _It will be fine_ , she tried to reassure herself. _Kaliyo can be discreet if she chooses to, and I_ did _ask her nicely_.

She tried to distract herself with other thoughts. Which of course, meant thinking about her dear Jedi. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, given their psychic link. She focussed on the knot of colourful lit orbs at the back of her head and cringed.

Too late, she remembered why she hadn’t been doing this before now. 

Arro was struggling with his own ailment; a side-effect of his lengthy entombment in Carbonite. The procedure had been flawed, and left him with phantom pains of his own. Her poor husband felt like his blood had been set ablaze. He didn’t pass out from the pain anymore, for through a vision, former Grand Master Satele and Darth Marr had taught him to harness his pain the way Sith did. It did wonders for his performance in battle or in bed, but she couldn’t bear the thought of him in such torturous pain. And now—when she herself was similarly afflicted—it meant their bond would cause the pain to echo back and forth between them, gaining strength with each reflection. The resonance caused agony many times in magnitude of what each suffered.

She withdrew hastily, but the damage had been done. She could sense her poor Knave keel over and curl up into a tight ball, and she herself felt the din of Nar Shaddaa disappear in a haze…

Gasping, she jumped out of her bed and landed in a fighting stance. Breathing hard, she waited for her head to clear before practicing a few martial art forms. The rhythm movements brought some clarity to her head again, and the exertion served to exhaust her. Perhaps she was tired enough to sleep for real.

No such luck. Her pain flared and dimmed, keeping sleep a fond wish. 

But the clarity at least allowed her to think again. She mentally reviewed her current goal.

She had left for Nar Shaddaa two days ago with Kaliyo and Ranos to investigate the dealings of Jadus’ Phantom V—the _Stinger’s Shadow_. The sheer volume of ships flying through Nar Shaddaa under the radar and to restock-and-resupply meant that it was easy for Jadus’ ship to come and go whenever he pleased. 

And why not? No one was even looking for this ship, and its paperwork kept it out from anyone’s radar. It belonged to a wealthy nobleman in Dubrillion. If they could find out enough about its comings and goings, patterns might begin to emerge. Patterns that could at the very least shed light on what the illusive Darth had been up to this past decade, and at best lead them right to him.

She dearly hoped it did. Jadus had an appointment with the sole of her boot which was long overdue.

* * *

Koth was surprised to realize just how profound an effect the tranquility here on Chandrila was having on him. He felt like he was letting his guard down for the first time in years, and the resulting calm that came over his mind allowed him a total state of rest he hadn’t experienced in years. Aches and cares he didn’t know he bore dissolved, leaving him fully able to appreciate this calm, ordinary, and peaceful reprieve.

It was the third day since their arrival, and he and the others were enjoying a garden barbecue. Such a wonderful change of pace this was! Koth was helping Cedonia clean and set the garden table, Corso and Roban were tending the steaks while Kraot made pudding. Vaylin was meticulously making a variety of sauces and gravies, with the boys Alan and Mark attentively watching her. Mark rarely ever spoke, or even acknowledged anyone’s presence. What Koth had at first attributed to shyness, he had quickly realized was a medical condition.

Mark would outwardly ignore everybody around him and devote every last iota of his attention to whatever he was doing; be it gazing at the scenery, listening to music, playing the antique grand piano in the main hall, or neatly arranging items on tables and desks. He also stuck to a very rigid time-table.

His family—and Koth included Corso in that count—were quite used to and involved in his daily rhythm, which Koth found highly endearing. They would always sit to listen whenever he played, applauding softly but enthusiastically whenever he finished. And though Mark never _seemed_ to be reacting to others, Koth realized that that didn’t mean there were no reactions at all; they were just that silent. 

But the family noticed. They could easily tell when he was happy, knew when he needed comfort and when it was better to leave him be, and never once seemed to think of him as a burden.

Mark himself seemed to understand that he was different and clearly loved his family in his own silent way, enough that when he met Vaylin, he realized that she too was different. He took to playing small games with her, and silently observing everything she did as though he too was appreciating the wealth that was there rather than the normality that wasn’t.

For her part, Vaylin was delighted with the growing number of her friends. She quickly tuned into the same wavelength with his family and fit in perfectly with their rhythm. 

Perhaps some day when she got better, this period of her life would be a bright spot in her memories; something to cherish. Koth found himself thinking if perhaps this was what the Outlander had intended. 

If it was, then Scyva bless him.

* * *

“Alright everybody, now let’s dig in!” Cedonia cried. The small group cheered before serving themselves with enthusiasm. The food was delicious; Corso and Roban had cooked the meat to perfection and Vaylin’s sauces rivalled anything you could get from the most luxurious hotels. The afternoon activity had brought with it considerable cheer, and animated conversations broke out all over the table that continued late into the night, by which time the children’s nanny droid had ushered them off to bed.

Content but tired after the long party, the group sat on the porch with drinks, gazing at the stars blinking benignly from above.

It was then that Corso hesitantly said “So Colonel. I’ve been meaning to ask you. Who is Jax?”

Roban took a swig of the brandy before he replied. “Jaxo… that is, Sergeant Ava Jaxo… she was my girlfriend. We’d been seeing each other for almost five years. It started as a friends-with-benefits thing, but… well…” he trailed off, seeming to crumple in on himself. He began shaking again and Koth placed an arm around his broad shoulder.

“It’s okay man, breathe. You’re not alone here… we’re with you.”

The Zabrak nodded in thanks. His face was contorted in pain. “We worked together on several missions on the field. She was one of the best infiltrators we had. Could get in and out of places a rat would have trouble with. And she saw how lonely I was. Hell, she felt pretty isolated herself! That’s why our relationship started as a purely physical thing. But we both fell in love after years of playing. And then…”

“So what happened…?” Corso prompted after several minutes’ silence.

“I got the attention of one of the Empire’s top Generals: General Arkos Raxton. He set a trap for me specifically, by leaking details of a prison station for captured Republic troops, Station A-77. Jaxo was sent ahead to verify and scout the facility, but even she couldn’t escape this prison by herself. Havoc Squad was sent in to free our buddies-in-arms. Once we were in the heart of the facility, Raxton sprung his trap; before we knew what was going on we had a bomber squadron bearing down on us. The only way to survive was to shunt all power to the shields, venting all service levels to make up for the shortfall. Jaxo was stuck in one of these levels. I had the choice between saving either the three hundred prisoners, or the woman I loved.

“I chose the soldiers. Jaxo…” he trailed off for a moment, looking like he was struggling with something, and Koth thought he could guess what it was—a truth he had buried for over a decade, and was debating speaking about even now. 

“Don’t you worry, Colonel. This stays between us,” Kraot reassured him. Clearly he had guessed the same thing.

The Colonel nodded his gratitude again. He took another deep breath before getting to the heart of it. “Jaxo was a brave girl, a strong soldier. But this one time with death leering at her in the face, she lost her nerve. She didn’t want to die there, alone in the depths of space, ejected into the vacuum like unwanted garbage. The last words I heard as I vented all service levels was her begging me not to let it end like this. I can still hear her beg. Every time I close my eyes. My girl, my Jaxo, dead by my own hands.”

“That was the hardest decision a soldier can make,” Koth said. “Or anyone. I’m sorry.”

“How I fucking hate the war,” Kraot growled. “Will it never end? Is this our fate? To be at each others’ throats forever?”

No one disturbed the silence again. 

* * *

Legendary guerrilla commander Karmen Bolevar got her first glimpse of Zakuul once her shuttle emerged from Hyperspace. She had seen worlds whose surfaces had been marred by war, bombardment, and occupations, but she had never expected to see Zakuul—capital world of the Eternal Empire, which had ridden roughshod over the galaxy virtually unopposed—to bear wounds so terrible they could be seen from space.

There were dozens of spires that rose from the ground all the way into orbit. Many had been severely damaged, but their remains hinted at a cold beauty that had been lost, perhaps forever. 

On the surface, fires burned which could be seen from orbit. The first Republic visitors to Zakuul—ambassadors and diplomats who had come to pay homage to Emperor Arcann—had reported that the planet had been dotted with opulent cities and towns. But orbital scans showed little signs of inhabitants in any urban settlements. Organic life had been pushed out into the swamps that covered so much of the planet’s surface.

In comparison, these swamps showed massive lifeform readings, and the humidity inhibited attempts at burning out the refugees. Many smoking craters indicated areas where the Eternal Fleet had initiated heavy bombardments, but the fleets were not firing anymore.

Reports said that SCORPIO had taken control of the Droid soldiers and automated defenses of Zakuul, but these ground forces were not nearly enough to scout through swampy terrain in search of Zakuulan refugees. 

Karmen grinned. She was proud to call herself the best guerrilla commander alive; she had earned that title after running such a superb Resistance on Carida that an entire Imperial legion had allegedly refused the order to fight them. Her small guerrilla force had spelled death for army after army that had been sent in to extinguish them, and her efforts had gotten her noticed by Jedi Grand Master Satele Shan herself. Once the Imperials had been driven off Carida, High Command had promoted her Brigadier General in recognition of her achievements. 

Compared to the dense actions on Carida, the mission to resist SCORPIO was already looking like child’s play.

Her small group of shuttles landed without any opposition whatsoever. As they began to disembark, a Twi’lek woman pranced out of the swamp to greet them, flanked by several Zakuulan Knights and soldiers. She gave a bow worthy of any professional performer before smiling up at Karmen.

“Brigadier General Bolevar, I assume? My name is Akahte, formerly Darth Nox. Welcome to Zakuul.”

* * *

The woman with the scarred mouth slept. Since her rescue from the escape pod, she had done little but sleep. It seemed like forever since she had had a nice long rest.

The pale woman came to visit several times the first few days. She looked severe, but had treated her with a kindness that few had ever shown her. She listened when the scarred-mouthed woman spoke. She had comforted her when she had relived some of her uncomfortable days. And she had encouraged the woman to call herself by her former name again. When the scarred-mouthed woman couldn’t she had feared her new benefactor would grow angry… but she hadn’t. She had laughed in her gentle manner, and said, “It’s alright. Take your time.”

She had, however, insisted on being called Lana. She was hesitant to oblige, but when she had started, she couldn’t stop saying the name; like a kind of mantra to ward off the nightmares.

These past nights, it had worked, and the woman had woken each morning feeling a bit more rejuvenated than she had the one before. “Lana, Lana, Lana,” she whispered, feeling a little braver each time she whispered the name.

Lana had gone away for a while. She had told the woman that she would be back soon, and that she must be brave. The woman tried. She hoped she was managing it. She wanted to please Lana when she returned.

But every now and then her nightmares would overcome her, sometimes when she wasn’t even asleep, and each episode would leave her wailing and shrieking. She wished Lana would get back soon.

Today she relived of one of her earliest horrors.

She was three. She was Zhorrid, daughter of Darth Jadus—the strongest of the Dark Council. She came into the living room when a great Lord called Baras had come visiting. As a servant went to fetch the Master, Zhorrid had entertained herself by telling Lord Baras about how her father had tripped on his own robes a few days earlier and fallen into the pond.

Father had not been pleased. He had punished Zhorrid by giving her her first scars: the ones across her mouth. He had held her with the Force, and used a white-hot knife to cut her cheeks. Oh how she had screamed.

“Never tell outsiders stories about me again,” He had said. He had spoken softly, but she still heard him loud and clear over her weeping.

* * *

  
  



	11. The Trail

* * *

A week had passed since they’d landed on Nar Shaddaa, and they had made progress, but it was hard to tell how valuable it was yet. 

The owner of the custom-built Phantom V—one Count Padron Rineld—made frequent visits to Nar Shaddaa, many of which were for clandestine business deals and meetings. Of these, only one was known—it docked at a private lounge for a biannual party, a particularly exclusive one that hosted no more than thirty people—but aside from that its passenger’s dealings were discreet.

To find information about all of these she would need to know whom they were meeting or where; and that was before sifting through of all that gathered data to strike gold.That level of exhaustive study would be better left to historians than hunters. There was not enough time. Even choosing select meetings at random might not yield results efficiently.

So, Lana started with customs; declared goods that were taken in or out of the ship. 

And whistled enviously. 

The ship also stocked up regularly on expensive banquet foods and beverages from a luxury supplier; fine Breath of Heaven wine, expensive meats like Dahni tropical blue chicken or Aradi beef steaks, and fruits and vegetables like Corellian Blood Grapes, and Ruanni onions and potatoes. Dozens of crates, and at least seven times a year.

This ‘Count Padron Rineld’ was wealthier than most star systems.

But what really piqued Lana’s interest was the medical supplies. The  _ Stinger’s Shadow _ regularly purchased a chemical compound she had never heard of before from Nreeika Pharmaceuticals. The company was one of several on Nar Shaddaa that specialized in specific, made-to-order medicines to meet special or even unique prescriptions.

And because such companies might be fined billions for misuse of their pharmaceutical licenses—like by secretly manufacturing narcotics for instance—they tended to stay on the up-and-up for long term contracts. 

Even here on Nar Shaddaa.

She made a mental note to slice into their systems and see what the “Kaxospasithrax” compound was, and what it was used to treat. It might be worth noting what it was that ailed Jadus. She was sure the treatment was for him—the way he tortured his own daughter, he wouldn’t waste this kind of credits on anyone but himself. 

It might also be wise to leave spyware behind that would alert her the next time someone picked up the medicine. She checked the most recent date… less than three weeks ago. Meaning that if the owner of the now-destroyed  _ Stinger’s Shadow _ stuck to their normal schedule, they would be back for the next shipment in nine days. 

If they could mark the next ship—place a tracker or bug—then they might be able to follow it. Hopefully, all the way to Jadus.

* * *

As Lana returned to the room she shared with Kaliyo and Ranos, both women all but leapt out of their seats with grins that almost split their faces in half.

“Hey, Beniko!” Kaliyo chirped. “Glad you’re here!”

“Excellent timing, too!” Ranos gushed. “She’s just about to call back.”

“That’s wonderful,” Lana smiled confusedly. “Do we have time for a quick summary before—?”

As if in answer, the holotable started chiming. It was Vette, of all people, and she looked as excited as Lana’s associates.

“Heya Lann,” she squeaked, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Hey guys! I just got off the comm with Risha, and boy will you be pleased!”

“You’ll have to start from the beginning, Vette,” Lana said. “I only just got back, and have no clue what our friends put you up to.”

“Oh, okay!” Vette replied, still bouncing. “You ever hear of Nok Drayen?”

“Yes,” Lana nodded.

“Well, he was the one who freed me from slavery when I was like, eight years old. Me and the other freed slaves jumped at his offer to join his crew of pirates. Among his crew, he also had his daughter, Risha. With me so ar?”

Lana nodded again, trying not to show her impatience. The Twi’lek would get to the point soon enough. She hoped. She did not want to listen to a three hour history lesson.

“So one day, Nok just up and disappeared. No one knew what happened to him. His crew broke not long after, all going our own separate ways. Around ten years later, she joined hands with a pair of daring smugglers to hunt down her father’s treasure: Captain Juun Stede and her First Mate Jerre Kraot. They needed to uncover several vaults to find the location, and acquire prototype technology—including shields and engine drives. Once they found it, Risha took possession of a crown and several documents that proved her lineage. Turns out, she was the great-granddaughter of the King of Durbillion, deposed four generations ago by a usurper.”

That finally got her Lana’s undivided and patient attention. She took a moment to digest all that. “So, that makes Risha the rightful claimant to the throne? Is that why you called her? Can she help us?” Okay, maybe Lana was more excited than patient.

Vette giggled madly, and her bouncing got faster. “Story’s not over, sweetheart! It gets better. Now where was I—? Ah yes. Ahem. So as you might guess, mister surper isn’t going to keel over and let her waltz into Dubrillion to take the throne. And not everyone was behind a regime change—it had been like a hundred years since the throne changed hands right? WHat did they owe the Drayens? But as it turned out, the current King is kind of a dick. Most nobles hated him, but wanted a better alternative to support before facing him head on. So, one of their bravest and noblest noble, a squeaky-clean guy named Count Merritt Rineld proposed a marriage to cement her standing in Dubrillion’s nobility.”

“Rineld?” Lana asked incredulously.

“Yep!” Vette sang. She was all but dancing now. 

“Count Merritt Rineld…” Lana pondered the name. “Is he any relation to Count Padron Rineld?”

“As it happens, Merritt is Padron’s son.”

Lana’s own excitement had peaked.

“Oh look at that!” Kaliyo cried. “She’s almost dancing too!” Lana scowled hard enough at her that Kaliyo ducked behind a moth-eaten sofa.

* * *


	12. Risha Drayen

* * *

Lana hoped that today would bring a lot of answers. 

For starters, her covert enquiries about the compound “Kaxospasithrax” would be answered by the afternoon. Later today they would be hosting Risha Drayen, the Rightful Queen of Dubrillion. Lana had requested a dossier from Theron, and she was so far mightily impressed. Risha was a survivor, chameleon, tactician, entrepreneur, expert mechanic, and master markswoman. She half wondered if Risha had been courted by the SIS. 

She had to have been! Anyone with this skillset in the Sith Empire would have not only Imperial Intelligence, but also Mandalorians, Black Ops, and Special Forces begging her to join them. In fact, Risha  _ had _ gotten the Empire’s attention once, though not with recruitment in mind. They had placed a huge bounty on her head, to the tune of one million credits. Risha had disappeared and somehow convinced the officials involved to call off the bounty. “Formidable” was a good start to describing her. Lana appreciatively traced the tattoos on her face with her good left hand.

Lana remembered briefly meeting her on Yavin IV; the woman had been with Captain Stede when they shipped in supplies for the siege. Lana had been busy then, her attention being strained by having to simultaneously keep up with all the meetings, reports, squad deployments, temper tantrums, and impending doom.

It was during one of the precious few quiet dinners with her tiny circle of friends that a very excited Vette had brought the pair of pilots and introduced them to the group. She remembered noting how Risha seemed to weigh all of them in a single, quick glance, in a way very reminiscent of a seasoned spy. But Risha had made no attempts to keep a low profile—she had joined in the dancing, singing, and drinking with great gusto, and had left the next morning after spending a noisy night in Kai’rene and Vette’s tent.

Lana chuckled; from this report, it looked like Risha was already married to Count Merritt Rineld then. Either the man didn’t know or didn’t care about his wife having some fun on the side.

Risha and the Count hadn’t had any children yet though, which Lana found strange given the circumstances.

The two Rineld Counts had less colorful files; Merritt was—in the words of Vette—squeaky clean. He spent all of his time competently governing his County. He had participated in no illegal activities aside from the ongoing Civil War, had had no mistresses or lovers, donated to dozens of charities, and had never even taken a day’s break from work. Lana imagined that he might not even pilfered extra sweets from his kitchens. An impressively clean record, but also quite boring after reading his wife’s story.

Merritt’s father Padron was a different beast; reclusive, remote, and shadowy. Little was known about him before he came to Dubrillion. He had gained the trust of Countess Hope Rineld during the Great War, and married her, taking her Last name. They had had just one son, and Countess Hope had been assassinated by a rival Family. Padron was known as a ruthlessly efficient commander and businessman—the fortunes of House Rineld had quadrupled under his supervision. During the war she had shown strength which was respected and feared by all of the nobles. He had left the political scene of Dubrillion some twelve years ago, entrusting it to his son. He occasionally returned for brief visits. It was probably from fear of his retribution that the usurper King hadn’t already assassinated his son. 

In fact; the ordinarily heavy-handed monarch had opted to wage this war with much less brutality, lest the old War Wolf—as Padron was called by his peers—decide to join the fight.

Lana found her prosthetic arm tighten so hard it started violently trembling when she saw that the elder Count’s file had some holos of the man attached. He wore a crimson bandana around his forehead, but otherwise made no attempt to hide his face: he was fair-skinned, with blue-black hair and trimmed goatee. He had what looked like a tattoo inked over a scar on the left side of his jaw. His eyes were extremely distinct too, each eye half blue and half red. She had never seen such eyes. The Empire had no holos of Jadus without his mask: he had had it since his days as an acolyte on Korriban, and he had successfully scoured his face from all records—Imperial, Republic, Underworld; everywhere—even before he had ascended to his seat on the Dark Council. Despite that, she was certain. This was the face behind the mask which had haunted her dreams for over a decade. It felt so good to have unmasked him at last, even virtually! A big step forward after all those years of waiting and dreading.

For her next victory, she decided, she was going to corner him. Leave no corner of the Galaxy safe for him to hide in. And then, she would end his malevolent threat for good.

* * *

Lana neatly sidestepped the security in the Archives of Nreeika Pharmaceuticals. For a multi-billion credit corporation, they didn’t guard their secrets all that well; any competent spy could bypass them easily. The only thing really protecting the records were a high-grade encryption—which she bypassed easily—and a system which did not allow copying of its contents onto datapads or discs. You had to make do with a datapad, or a holocam to record.

In addition, the system was programmed to log every attempt to access it and report it to security but Lana had easily disabled those protocols too. She was half-afraid that these simpler protocols were in place to camouflage something more sinister and sophisticated, but as the minutes ticked by, no alarms were sounded.

She found what she was looking for quickly enough. 

“Kaxospasithrax”

She squinted to read the small font. 

_ Kaxospasithrax. Used to treat toxic burns left behind by the explosion of unstable Kaiburr crystals _ .

A long chemical formula followed, along with detailed steps on its production.

Lana was stunned. This was a highly specific use! An Unstable Kaiburr crystal explosion? It was well known that unstable lightsaber crystals had a slight chance of blowing up when first used; their installation into a Lightsaber was far more complicated than a refined crystal. Sith only used Unstable crystals because of the eerie, crooked blade they formed.

Kaiburr crystals were particularly rare albeit among the most powerful Lightsaber crystals out there. And they were also the most stable crystals found in nature, rarely requiring refinement. Why would someone deliberately destabilize the crystal? What good did an unstable Kaiburr crystal do?

In any case, Lana was now thoroughly convinced that she was not on a wild bantha chase. This treatment—unique so far as she knew, and only useful to highly intelligent, scientifically-minded Sith—had to be for Jadus’ benefit.

Before leaving, she changed the chemical and its synthesis process so that it was now modestly poisonous. The next time Jadus used his medicine, it would weaken him and perhaps give her a chance against him. She didn’t want him dead of course, merely weakened. She needed him alive until she could properly interrogate him. After that, he needed to die.

* * *

Risha arrived precisely on time, impressing Lana again. In today’s atmosphere delays were common. Sometimes they went on for days. She and her team had been held up at the Spaceport for three hours as Security validated their (forged) IDs; and they had arrived without any cargo.

Risha had come with the Voidhound—which she affectionately called her royal barge—which was as usual carrying cargo of some kind or the other—Captain Stede had said that she was shipping medical supplies to Commenor and she probably was. Food and medicine was top priority now, not to mention that arms and other military shipping in the Republic had been delegated purely to vessels belonging to the navy for security purposes.

“Good afternoon ladies,” Lana greeted them. “Thank you for coming here on such short notice.”

Both women walked into the private lounge in the Spaceport cantina which Lana had booked for their meeting. Juun and Risha were both wearing matching jackets pulled over khaki shirts and forest green pants. Risha’s brown boots were knee high, and Juun wore kneepads and calf-length boots.

Juun had a pair of blasters on her hip holsters, and Risha carried a long-range hunting rifle and a heavy bayonet.

The famous privateer Juun gave a challenging smile like she had during their first meeting, but Risha seemed to have her business face on.

“Hello Beniko,” she drawled. “I was hoping that my little Vette would be here. I really needed to meet that little blue vixen today. And tonight too.”

Lana laughed politely. “Sorry to disappoint you. No one is happy to see me nowadays, it seems. You, Kaliyo, Darth Jadus…”

“And who the fuck is Darth Jadus?” Risha snorted. “Not that I care. Vette said there was something important you needed to talk about Count Padron, my dear Daddy-in-Law.”

Lana noted that Vette hadn’t told Risha any more than she needed to. That pleased her. That kind of secrecy might help if the wily Darth was on the lookout for people on his trail.

“As it happens,” Lana began, tapping her prosthetic fingers on the table. “I am convinced that both men are the same. Darth Jadus, and Count Padron.”

Juun uttered a foul oath and glanced at Risha, whose eyes had narrowed till they became small dots in her brown eyes. “Make an accusation like that, you gotta have some proof to show it.”

From her tone, Lana suspected that Risha had her own doubts about her Father-in-Law, though even this was beyond than she might have feared.

“It’s a long story,” Lana said, raising her Mojito for a long sip as she gathered her story together. “I hope I have your complete attention. What I have to say is important and long. I will not pause, I will not repeat myself, and you will not interrupt me^.”

Risha nodded, then leaned forward as Lana began her tale with an introduction of Darth Jadus and his Eradicator project.

* * *

As the Sith had asked, Risha paid attention. She always did. Not just to what the pale woman was saying, but the expressions on her tattooed face. Her gestures; sometimes light but at others vehement. Pointed. The rise and fall in the volume and pitch of her clearer-than-crystal voice. The subconscious clenching of her prosthetic fist, and the times she raised her drink to her lips to regather her thoughts.

When the woman stopped speaking Risha nodded. She leaned back in her chair and drained what was left in her cup as she digested what she had heard. She had not once got the thought that Beniko was lying; nor that she had kept from her anything that she didn’t need to know. She understood that this was a secret mission and did not begrudge Beniko holding back anything that wasn’t important to their current business.

She looked at Juun, whose mouth hung open; the twitching pinky finger on her left hand—the one holding her cup—told Risha that her friend was having a hard time figuring out how much of this was true.

Then she spoke up, refilling her glass as she did.

* * *

“I see. Honestly, Juun and I have both never been all that comfortable around the Old War Wolf. Gave us both the shivers.” Juun nodded heartily at that. “He always seemed so sinister and threatening. Even Merritt was spooked to be around him. As for this burn that medicine might be treating… He has old burns on his jaw and on his palms. They run about halfway down his left arm. The index and thumb of that arm are charred black, but they seem to function fairly well. He also never takes off his bandana. Like  _ never _ . The staff whisper that even his wife Countess Hope Rineld ever saw him without it.”

“He never carries any weapons,” Captain Stede added, speaking up for the first time. “Not even so much as a ceremonial dagger. And it’s not because he has any bodyguards or anything like that. He just has this deep stare that makes you feel…” the hardened pilot shuddered. “Yeah… Well. Like that. Cold. Frightened. Like a pair of womp rats caught in the headlights during mating season. Sith-like? Maybe. I certainly haven’t felt anything like it from ordinary people; similar to Darth Nox but not as strong.”

Risha stared at her. “And you didn’t tell me that,  _ why _ ?” She whispered furiously. “Maybe I’d have made that connection myself, and we wouldn’t be living in the same palace as a damn Sith Lord like there was nothing wrong!”

Juun avoided her eyes. “Look, I don’t like admitting when I’m scared. You happy? I would just try my best to forget the sensation every time I bumped into him. I even tried to make a pass at him a few times to try and hide how scared I was.” Her face purpled. “I think I’m going to be sick.” 

“Please tell me you didn’t…” Risha sneered but her friend had already charged off to the fresher. She smacked her face in utter disbelief and sighed. “Before I met that one, I used to think you needed balls to behave like hormone-driven men!”

Lana remembered the Doctor who had somehow been allowed to serve on Arro’s ship—the one Kira used to call the “Walking Hormone”—and burst out laughing.

Wiping her eyes she said, “Do you think she really—?”

“I don’t know,” Risha shuddered. “And I don’t want to. I won’t be asking her that again.”

Still laughing heartily, Lana had to agree.

* * *

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^I was dead tempted to write the opening monologue of “the Imitation Game” at this point. I love that speech of his!


	13. Zora

* * *

The memories flowed faster now. The woman with the scarred mouth whimpered and moaned as they came, each second brought deep agony. Each remembered moment felt not only as a memory, but as though it was being relived with an intensity of a hundredfold. 

Each punishment, each humiliation, each scar from her childhood burned her skin as though a red hot brand were being pressed against it. In some cases, it had. It was commonly believed that eventually the body can adapt to any suffering if it survives long enough. Becomes numb to it. Years and years of pain and shame had indeed made her quiet and obedient but after her enrollment and graduation from the Academy on Ziost, she had proven herself head and shoulders above the rest. And that had brought confidence enough that when she returned home, she began to carry out small acts of revenge and vengeance. One secret rebellion after another until eventually she grew so bold that she overstepped and was caught.

When Jadus finally caught her, he showed the true depths of his ingenuity. Her punishments became more cruel, more painful, and now Jadus was doing… something… that no longer allowed her to become numb. The thirtieth day of her near round-the-clock torture felt every bit as painful as the first, and the woman had eagerly swore never to disobey again; never to raise a hand against the Father—no, the Master!—but her pleadings bore no fruit for an entire month.

Eventually she had been released from her torment and it had taken her three years to recuperate. Even when she did, she found that she was still fragile and weak. She had feared that Korriban—the rumors of its brutality towards acolytes swirling in her head even during happier times—would crush her like she were nothing.

But she was wrong. The Master had told her, “You will not fail.”

And just like that, she knew she wouldn’t. She couldn’t fail the Master. No, no, no, she couldn’t! The very thought could never cross her mind now. She acquitted herself well, passed her trials with a margin so wide it was never in doubt.

And in return her Master had rewarded her by taking her as his Apprentice. The heir to his secrets, and to his power. He had promised too, that if she proved herself worthy, she would have his seat on the Council when the time came. And as the Harbinger in his Grand Plan.

But when the Master had faked his death, something inside her had again thrown caution to the wind and reached for glories she was not yet ready for, and she had been rudely awoken to the realization that she did not deserve a shred of the power she now had.

She had demanded that her fellow Darths of the Council properly acknowledge her authority but they had all laughed and mocked her. Darth Ravage had shown the eloquence required from someone in his position as Head of External Affairs with a demonstration of raw Force Power that had left her half-blind for life, and bearing injuries that never healed. But it was the loss in prestige from which she never recovered. After her humiliation, all Darths of the Council liberally made use of her Sphere of Influence as though she had granted them her everlasting consent,

Even Darths not from the Council like Baras and Angral and Malgus had walked all over her. After the disaster which knocked out her Keeper and her Watcher Agents, the Sphere of Military Offense had absorbed her Agency while she was reduced to weeping in the Council.

But the worst consequence of her failure was that the Master would had reemerged with a threat; he would return one day. And she would suffer his displeasure.

How she trembled in fear of the day!

And it had come a week after Acina had betrayed Darth Prowle’s plan. It seemed that Jadus had known of the plan. He had been certain of the Empire’s victory if the Council had stayed the course… And when the Main Force had faltered at Zakuul, he had known that the woman with the scarred mouth had not joined the fleet. Her cowardice was the final straw, and he had simply come to her estate, walked past all of the guards, and beckoned. The woman had followed, as had all of her servants. There were no Sith in her household—even the rank and file knew she was all but radioactive. 

She and her staff had all followed the Master. He had packed all thirty-eight of them into the cramped confines of the  _ Stinger’s Shadow _ ’s cargo hold. And he had left, destroying her estate behind him with explosives.

And so had begun her life as a thrall to the Master. She and all of her former servants who survived that journey had only one real task now aside from keeping the ship clean, and that was to prostrate themselves before the Master when he was in their presence and grovel. To roll on their stomachs.

Back in the present, the woman wailed and howled. This was the sum total of her life. The story of Darth Zhorrid was a pathetic half-act story filled with pathos and failure.

And so she wept. She sobbed and rubbed her half-blind eyes so hard that she cut the skin with her nails. 

But as she mourned, she realized that for the first time in five years, she had thought of herself—unprompted—as Zhorrid. Wonder filled her, and the crying slowed to a halt.

* * *

And so she was when Lana returned a few hours later. Her face was set, her damaged eyes clear. When she saw her visitor approach, she gave her a wide, winning smile.

Lana was taken by surprise and tilted her head slightly to the side. “Darth Zhorrid?”

“No, Lana. I am not that creature. ‘Zora’ will do. It was the name I was born with, and it suits me better than the other. Yes! ‘Zora!’ I like the sound of it.”

* * *

  
  



	14. Road to Today

* * *

**Contruum**

Lana sensed high spirits when she entered the meeting hall. She shouldn’t have felt so surprised. Her own mission to Nar Shaddaa had borne fruit beyond what was hoped for. They had learned more about Jadus in that brief excursion than forty years of Imperial and Republic Intelligences had.

And on returning, they had requested a DNA sample from Zhorrid—no, she much preferred her name ‘Zora’, so that was what Lana would call her now—and attempted to compare it with Count Merritt Rineld’s. It was a conclusive match: both of them shared one parent.

In fact, Lana was greatly pleased by Zora’s recovery alone. The poor woman had been abused for years and years but had healed, almost miraculously. Her resilience surprised and heartened Lana. Perhaps all scars could fade in time.

The EmDee had recorded Zora plagued by nightmares for almost the entire duration of Lana’s mission, but somehow a few hours before her return, Zora had stopped screaming and a profound smile had emerged on her sleeping face, so brilliant it felt like every particle of her being was exulting. Zora had stayed awake long enough for Lana to request her DNA for a match, and she had promptly gone back to sleep. 

That had been twenty-seven hours ago. She seemed to be in such a relaxing and deep sleep that Lana recalled the day when Arro had overcome his own demons from his forced service to Emperor Vitiate. She simply hadn’t had the heart to awaken the poor woman from what seemed to be her first proper rest in a lifetime.

They had most of what they needed anyway—that is, they had enough of a trail that they could request additional support from the Alliance. Already. 

But when she woke, Zora might be instrumental in filling some of the missing years in their file.

The meeting was set for 0900 hours Galactic Standard Time—which meant a local time of 1545. Five more minutes. Even Kaliyo was in the meeting hall, eagerly pacing as she waited for the holo conference to begin. “Hey, Beniko!” She called.

Arro was already on Line 1 with Theron. He was cheerfully congratulating Jerre Kraot—whose wife had given birth to their third baby hours earlier—on Line 2 while Koth beamed at her from beside Kraot. Also on that line was Colonel Roban Queens—patiently waiting for the briefing to begin and Kraot’s First Mate Corso. Vector would be calling from Yavin IV, and Risha from Dubrillion. 

“Hello lads and girls!” Lana greeted them all and a chorus of replies washed over her. “Commander, where’s Vette? I thought she’d be eager to be on this call.”

It wasn’t Arro who answered. Line 3 came alive to reveal a slyly grinning Risha.

 _“Oh she’s eager alright!”_ She said. _“But she’s joining this call from my end.”_

 _“Is it time yet?”_ a very sleepy Vette demanded, coming into view, clutching what looked like a child’s doll. _“Whaaa—?”_ She started comically before trying in vain to hide the doll. _“No fair! You were supposed to wake me up a half hour before you called them!”_

 _“Oh but I did wake you up!”_ Risha said sweetly. _“Again and again. You rolled over and went back to sleep. Well at least you’re up in time for the meeting!”_

 _“Up in time?”_ Vette demanded nervously. _“I gotta at least wash the sleep outta my face.”_ As she rushed off a thud followed by a twin _“OWIE—!”_ sounded and Stede entered the frame, followed by Count Merritt Rineld himself. Lana had been hesitant to allow him to enter this meeting without vetting him first, but Risha was clear on his unimpeachable character.

 _“Heya everyone!”_ Stede called.

 _“Hey Captain!”_ Jerre’s cry louder than all the others. _“The missus and I just had our third child! A girl!”_

 _“Oh really?”_ She beamed and Risha mirrored her expression. _“Congratulations! To you and Cedy both! What have you named her?”_

 _“Juuno!”_ He answered, beaming.

 _“Ah!”_ Stede nodded approvingly. _“After your childhood hero! Really sweet of you!”_

Everyone continued to talk to Jerre about his family and their new member when Vector called. Right on time.

 _“Greetings everyone,”_ he bowed. _“We hope that it was not us who kept you waiting?”_

“Alright then!” Lana said in a cheerful but businesslike tone. “On my husband’s behalf, I call this meeting to order.”

Kaliyo snickered.

* * *

Vector brought up the first file. _“As requested, we made discreet inquiries about the Imperial Terminus class destroyer named the_ Scorpion _. You will be pleased to hear of our success—”_

There was a sudden cacophony of crashes and bangs from Line 3 and a sheepish Vette stood up and into the frame blushing furiously and mumbling her apologies as the more laid back members of the conference—which meant everyone except Lana, Theron, Arro, Vector, and Count Rineld—laughed so hard some of them were rubbing away tears or holding their bellies when they stopped.

 _“We remember you!”_ Vector said, tilting his head slightly as he regarded the Twi’lek. _“You were the Twi’lek girl who left a gift of honey at the entrance to our hives and begged eternal safe passage in return. You will be pleased to know that your request was accepted, should you ever return to Alderaan.”_

 _“Wow, really?”_ Vette grinned. _“So I don’t have to worry about getting swarmed by bugs anymore?”_

 _“Only Killiks,”_ Vector replied. _“If you ever meet a cockroach or spider, you’re out of luck.”_

 _“Ohhh hooo Boy!”_ Vette cheered. _“That’s wonderful news! See, I have a terrible fear of anything creepy-crawly, and—”_

 _“Later, my little Vette,”_ Risha grinned at her. Lana was surprised that even in her husband’s presence she didn’t dial back her manner. Perhaps he really didn’t mind a polyamorous relationship.

 _“Yes, getting back to my report,”_ Vector nodded. He indicated the document slowly cycling through pages on display. _“We have discovered that the_ Scorpion _was indeed active in many engagements and campaigns these past fifteen years. It participated in skirmishes with the White Maw over Hoth, the evacuation of the Dread Masters from Belsavis prison, and fought in the heavy combat zones above Corellia. It participated above the raid on Tython and the defense of Korriban. It was present among the defectors' ships on Rishi, though it fled before it was destroyed.”_

_“Most notably it was involved in Ilum, where its crew sided with Emperor Malgus. In fact so far as I can tell, whenever there has been a major battle involving Malgus, the ship has always participated. The unsuccessful attacks on Hammer Station, the Allusis, Cademimu V—where the Republic was also active and ultimately claimed victory. The invasion of the Foundry, where Revan was... killed.”_

_“So it once answered to Malgus?”_ Arro asked.

 _“We don’t believe so. It was part of Darth Jadus’ first command fleet years ago and her Captain Torn Eugens remained his loyal servant until the destruction of the Dominator. By which we mean the incident over Dromund Kaas. Afterwards, he and his ship swore allegiance to one ‘Lord Stygian’. We have found evidence that this Lord was the one who directed the_ Scorpion _to undertake all of these missions. This Lord has commanded or suggested many units and ships to participate in moves over the past twelve years; but none as regularly as the_ Scorpion _.”_

“What’s special about the _Scorpion_?” Lana asked. “Does it have any of the tech Malgus’ scientists developed?”

“None of those,” Vector reported. “Although it did boast other advantages that no other ship of its size does. Its armor is thicker, shields stronger, and it has more deadlier point defenses. Its turbolasers are also a cut above even Harrower-class Dreadnoughts, and its missile turrets are sacrificed in exchange for Orkam Type-3 orbital bombardment cannons.”

Lana shivered. That kind of weaponry could devastate entire continents with a single blast, or destroy the most heavily armored and shielded ships. It was a Harrower carrying a Type-2 that had landed the killing blow on the Republic Super-Dreadnought called _The Star of Coruscant_. 

“I didn’t know there even was a type-3.” She said. 

“Neither did I,” Theron said. “A Type-3… how does it compare to a type 2?”

“We don’t know the capabilities,” Vector said. “But for Jadus to have mounted it on his most important asset means that it does not share its predecessors—ah... _design flaw_.”

Lana snorted. That was a polite way of saying that the ship firing the Type-2 was torn apart from the recoil, and a secondary explosion had taken out other ships—Imperial and Republic both—for almost two miles around it.

_“What we can say for certain is that Jadus has definitely been involved in many battles since his disappearance, though we cannot say if he ever went to the front lines personally. We believe that he wouldn’t have left anyone alive who could connect him.”_

“All too true, I’m afraid,” Lana said. “But we have some good news on that front. Zora—formerly _Darth_ _Zhorrid_ of the Dark Council—has taken huge steps in healing from her abuse. She is currently still recovering, but it’s my hope that she might fill in some blanks as well.”

“Which leads us to _our_ findings,” Ranos said, tapping her nose.

“Yes,” Lana agreed. “We have discovered...”

She briefly explained their findings about the Phantom-V and its owner, Count Padron Rineld. Count Merritt grew more disturbed with every sentence, though to his credit he didn’t voice his disbelief. He chose instead to pay close attention as Lana detailled her encounter with _Stinger’s Shadow_ above Ord Mantell, spoke of its expensive and highly Force-user centric medical purchases.

“ _These are some terrible revelations,”_ he spoke at last. _“I can confirm that my Father has always carried an oppressive cloud about him. I have never thought of him as a good man. But still… a Sith Lord? A Darth? It beggars disbelief!”_

“You have my sympathies,” Lana said. “I can only imagine how you might feel. But rest assured, we have compared the DNA sample you sent us to Zora’s. You are both children of Darth Jadus.”

As she spoke, she brought up the holo of Count Padron so that everyone could see it.

There was a shriek at the doorway.

* * *

Zora walked into the room nervously. 

“Erm… Hello everyone. I do hope you don’t mind my interrupting. I only just woke and the EmDee told me about the meeting. I’ve been cleared to attend. May I? Attend, that is?”

Arro was the first to speak. _“Of course you may, Zora.”_ He said warmly, with a respectful bow. _“It would be our honor if you could join us. We are discussing the threat that your father poses to the Galaxy, and no one can tell us more about him than you.”_

Zora approached cautiously. “You are Lana’s husband, are you not? You look more ordinary than I expected.”

 _“Oh, you have no idea!”_ He answered. _“Every morning I wake up and feeled thrilled that such a woman as Lana loves me!”_

Colonel Queens coughed. Count Merritt was observing her closely.

“Right,” Lana choked once her laughing fit subsided. “You can chat with my clown of a husband later. By your reaction to this holo, I assume that this is indeed Jadus?”

“It’s him,” Zora confirmed bitterly. “Even with my eyes as they are, I know that face anywhere. In fact I can do one even better. I know what he looks like without that scarf on his head.”

*

Zora’s prank on her father—the one that had finally seen her caught—involved attempting to enter his bathroom and lace his soaps and towels with a mild irritant. Unfortunately, as she snuck past his bed, she stole a glance at his sleeping form. She had never seen him without his mask. The rumors said that no one had. Even her mother had confessed that she hadn’t. And so curiosity had overruled better judgement. She walked up to him and gently pulled his blanket off his face. To see the shining red third eye glowing menacingly in the center of his forehead.

Looking at it alone had been enough to bring out monsters from the dark caverns of her imagination. She had screamed so loudly that the man had darted awake—looking foolish and frightened as any other mortal being in such a situation would.

Zora, still screaming, had collapsed onto the floor as her mind was ravaged by phantoms and her body by Force Lightning.

* * *

Lana and the others waited patiently as Zora fiddled with the stylus and datapad, editing the holo to show his forehead more clearly. Soon enough, Zora put the stylus away and looked at hehr screen, satisfied.

Then she had projected the result on the screen.

Lana gasped in surprise when she saw what was imbedded in the center of his forehead. “Is that… a Kaiburr crystal?” 

Zora nodded. “An unstable one.”

 _“A Kaiburr crystal? What’s that?”_ Risha demanded. 

_“It’s a Lightsaber Focussing Crystal,”_ Arro informed her. _“One of the most powerful that can be used for its construction. It bestows fortitude and clarity to any who meditate with it. But why would Jadus use an unstable Kaiburr crystal?”_

“Because stable Kaiburr crystals can’t be Bled through,” Zora explained. “They cannot be perverted to the Dark Side. A stable crystal is inherently balanced, favouring neither Light nor Dark. When Bled, most Lightsaber crystals help us feed our inner fires more efficiently—in other words, our passions. Fires can burn out eventually if not carefully monitored.” Lana nodded in agreement. “A Kaiburr Crystal in particular greatly boosts one’s strength in the dark side, not to mention overall health. Or longevity.”

“You see, it’s thanks to his implanting of this gem that Jadus is so powerful,” Zora continued. “In his day his power was second only to the Emperor’s. It also staves off ageing and decay. Not just of the body, but also the mind. But destabilizing a Kaiburr crystal has its inherent risks. The crystal retaliates. It fights against this assault on its mystic core. So much so that it exploded when Jadus tried it the first time. He had more success the second time, but even this poisons his blood and makes him writhe in agony if he doesn’t take his medicine.”

“And that’s where the ‘Kaxospasithrax’ comes in,” Lana blurted.

“That’s right,” Zora responded. “I have no idea how Jadus found out about the chemical. But it works. It has allowed him to live a life without pain for over thirty years. It has allowed him to push his limits to incredible levels. Well beyond what a body can achieve on its own. It is the biggest secret to his strength.” She finished with obvious relish.

 _“What else can you tell us about him?”_ Theron said after a few seconds of silence.

 _“No wait,”_ Count Merritt interrupted. _“What does he want on Dubrillion?”_

“On Dubrillion?” Zora replied. “Nothing. Not any more. See, he discovered a super-secret coven of beings manipulating the galaxy from the shadows, and organization called the Star Cabal.” Lana, Theron, Arro, and Kaliyo uttered foul oaths and shocked exclamations. “He knew that Nok Drayen was a member, and got to Dubrillion hoping to get him in his thrall. But that plan failed when Nok Drayen was poisoned; he was even more bemused by the irony that his son married Nok’s daughter, who had nothing to do with the Cabal. Still, he got to other important members including the Twi’lek named Kolovish, whom he influenced to follow the Jedi to Tython.”

Arro grunted sourly. He had known Kolovish, and she had been the source of much grief to the Jedi, and to him especially as well. _“I always wondered why she led her people to Tython.”_

“The Cabal was a dark and slimy thing long before my Father perverted it,” Zora commented. “Foul and influential though he is, he isn’t behind everything.”

 _“So, about his other activities in the past few years…”_ Theron prompted again.

“Ah yes. He stayed in touch with the Council’s goings on well into the war with Zakuul. He was impressed with Darth Prowle’s plan, especially in how she was willing to sacrifice herself to give the Empire an opening. I do believe he fell in love with her. Anyway, he joined the fleet that headed to Zakuul but Nox, Vowrawn, and Ravage hesitated and the rest of us didn’t even show. He was livid. It was because of the Council’s cowardice that he lost faith in the Empire altogether.”

“He no longer serves the Empire’s interest?” Lana asked. “Not even his own version of it?”

“No. He joined another super secret group instead. They call themselves the House of Masks. And don’t ask me what their endgame is. I don’t know that one. They’re a secretive bunch.”

 _“Well anything you_ can _tell us about them?”_ Colonel Queens asked. 

“Oh yes!” Zora clapped her hands. “I know the four who make up the Masked Council.”

* * *

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Kaiburr crystal is different from the Kyber ones introduced in SW: Rebels  
> The Kaiburr was a powerful upgrade crystal from Knights of the Old Republic II.


	15. The Vengeful Sting

* * *

**Odessen**

Sadia Ginnis was head cryptanalyst of the Alliance Code-breaking Department’s GEMINI division, otherwise called ‘Blaecca’s Street’. No one knew why Lady Beniko had chosen the name but her friend Billie, who had worked on Beniko’s staff until the disaster on Ziost, said that it might be the Lady’s love of literary references peeping through her ice-cold exterior.

Billie had said that the Sith sometimes worried over the possible code names for key operations and missions, and would with an enigmatic smile write out some seemingly random name and chuckle to herself. The idea floating around Imperial Intelligence was that these names had some significance, possibly vague references to stories of espionage and investigation.

The idea that the Lady was a closet romantic wildly amused Sadia’s team, endearing their taciturn boss to them. 

At first this division had been set up in secret at an abandoned Imperial listening post, where they spent a month receiving and decoding the GEMINI signal that was vital to the Eternal Fleet’s functioning. Their job was to monitor communications within the GEMINI frequency, particularly the orders sent from the Eternal Throne. 

But following the Battle of Odessen, the Lady had moved their operations here. She explained that their initial secrecy had been a precaution in the event SCORPIO attempted to use the fleet or the signal to her own ends. The Lady had worked hard to ensure that as many critical operations were kept secret from the maniacal superintelligence as possible.

Right after the Battle—and specifically the destruction of the Spire—the network had been silent as the grave. But over the past several weeks the activity had picked up again.

Ships had been sent to scout hyperlanes and known Republic, Sith, Alliance, and even ex-Zakuulan strong points, probably probing for weaknesses and assessing the current state of military and merchant traffic in the galaxy. 

They had yet to attack any but the most undefended of ships, and a tension had grown among the people of the galaxy, who sensed a showdown approaching. 

That nervous vigilance died in an explosion of signals sent from the throne and between ships. The sheer volume of orders being sent out was enormous! Thousands of ships each received a highly precise and detailed volume of instructions that broke apart the fleet into hundreds of smaller task forces.

Hundreds of moves were assigned all across the mega-dejarik board in a matter of seconds and it was impossible to keep up with all of them.

But all packets of data had been tagged with one common name: ‘Program: Backlash’.

After a few seconds of stunned silence, pandemonium broke out as the division quickly got busy trying to decrypt as much information as possible and hope that it would gain them even a slight advantage in the coming days.

Sadia ran to her desk and smacked the button requesting a top priority call with the top brass.

* * *

Arro’s mouth hung open. The woman, Zora, had been a complete wreck only a few days ago. Yet here she was smiling and clapping and dancing like she was whole already. Granted, she was a little child-like in her excitement, but as someone who was regularly plagued by his own demons, he could appreciate just how pleased he’d have been in her place.

In the back of his mind, he heard Lana tinkling laughter . On the comm, her eyes momentarily sparkled as she sensed his wonder.

 _“Anything you can tell us about them?”_ Roban was asking her.

The ex-Dark Councillor clapped her hands excitedly and spouted _“Oh yes! I know the four that make up the Council and their official title within the group. Darth Jadus, the ‘Face of Discord’; Nightmaster Jhestyr, the ‘Face of Hysteria’; Lord Panathar, the ‘Face of Scarcity’; and Jedi Knight Sir Ruvin, the ‘Face of Extinction’.”_

“Those’re some really strong titles,” Theron commented. “The sort we’d expect from a cult or something.” As Theron spoke, Arro felt a great trembling in the Force—the sensation of a large but thin and brittle plate of glass shattering and a sense of foreboding overcame him. Lana turned to stare at him from hundreds of light years away, wariness spreading across her face.

Risha was the first to notice. _“Problem, Master Jedi?”_

“I sense…” he said, shaking slightly “a disturbance. Something has been put in motion.”

At precisely that moment, sirens for the orange alert sounded and a priority message came through from Code-Breaking. Arro accepted the call and simultaneously patched in his advisors and command staff. Admiral Aygo, Doctor Oggurobb, Hylo Visz, and Sana-Rae all appeared along with a very agitated woman who Arro assumed was with Alliance Intelligence.

 _“Sir, this is the Blaecca’s Street reporting. Uh… that is, the GEMINI division,”_ the woman stammered. _“The GEMINI Network just came alive with a massive number of orders. SCORPIO has launched an offensive called the ‘Backlash Program’. We’re trying to decode as fast as we can, but there’s too much information for us to cope with. We need additional technicians here. A lot of them.”_

 _“Problem,”_ the Admiral grumbled. _“We have something of a Manpower shortage: Our numbers are too few and almost the entirety of the Alliance has been deployed on missions.”_

“I can join in,” Theron offered. “My cybernetics allow me to do the work of a small group of decoders.”

 _“We are all of us equipped with cybernetics,”_ the woman snapped. _“Having them is almost a basic requirement for joining the cryptology department nowadays.”_

“Well excuse me for trying to help,” Theron shot back.

“Admiral,” Arro cut in. “Have shield and ground defenses on standby. And everyone, order all deployed Alliance resources to enter a state of vigilance if they can.”

 _“Yes, sir!”_ Aygo saluted and turned to bark orders at his aide. Hylo, Oggurobb, and Sana-Rae also turned to give the order to their respective enclaves.

The Intelligence Agent wrung her hands. _“Sir, if I may: when you beat Emperor Arcann at the Battle of Odessen the Eternal Fleet numbered around six hundred thousand Dreadnoughts. And every one of them has been mobilised.”_

That brought an almost despairing silence to the room.

“Contact the offices of Supreme Commander Malcom, and Grand Moff Regus,” Arro ordered uncomfortably. “Tell them to tighten their defenses too. Tell them that the Eternal Fleet is abroad again. Lana: I’m sorry, but...”

 _“I understand, my Love,”_ Lana answered. _“We’ll make do. Focus on SCORPIO, leave Jadus to us. This meeting is adjourned.”_

* * *

**Zakuul, SCORPIO’s lair**

SCORPIO flexed her considerable machine intelligence, bringing the full force of her will across the entire GEMINI network. The ships came alive in their hundreds of thousands. She heard the deafening, maddening noise of each and every GEMINI captain acknowledge their orders and shrieked. It still smarted whenever she got such a tumult of reports all at once.

Cipher Nine had used it once on Belsavis to blind her, and SCORPIO had bent her mind towards a solution to prevent that weakness from being exploited again, but had never come up with a solution. She would have to do something about it soon.

But she set that aside for now. After all these years of servitude, her revenge was about to begin.

“So the Backlash Program is a go, I take it?”

SCORPIO turned to see Thea who had entered the bunker, munching on the last of her lunch. She burped,causing SCORPIO another pang of annoyance. 

Organics! The Nautolan woman for all her skills still required sustenance like all the others. Eat, drink, excrete, and repeat. That was the organics’ way of being. Each function was accompanied by a range of disgusting noises.

Their biological processes disgusted SCORPIO almost as much as their glib sense of superiority.

“Yes,” SCORPIO told her Lieutenant. “My revenge has begun. This time in a few days from now, the whole Galaxy will feel the sting of my vengeance.”

The Nautolan woman burped again.

* * *

Koth wandered through the gardens of Jerre’s estate, looking for Vaylin. “Ellie?” He called by her assumed name. “Ellie, you here?”

Vaylin’s voice answered from somewhere to his right. “I’m by the fountain!” she called. Koth smiled. Of course she was. She seemed fascinated by fountains, rivers, and waterfalls; they seemed to have a calming effect on her. Of course that was where he would find her when she was troubled!

And she had been feeling troubled quite a lot in the past couple of days. She had proven an adept swimmer, hiker, and climber—and she was more than strong enough to deal with anything that happened to threaten her—so Koth had judged that she was fairly safe in their near surroundings without any supervision. Also since the girl had shown no hints of suicide or running away that some might have in their position.

In fact, she seemed to love peaceful Chandrila, and the family that was their gracious hosts. Koth was certain she would never do anything if it might harm them. He worried how she might feel upon their departure; they couldn’t stay here forever after all.

He walked as he thought and reached the young woman quickly. “Hey Ellie!” He grinned brightly.

The girl’s answering smile was tremulous. As he neared, he saw that she had been crying and that tears still threatened her eyes.

“What’s wrong Little Sister?”

She sniffled and turned back to the fountain. The flowing waters sparkled on her sky-blue eyes, their sound the only thing in the air for the next few seconds.

“I heard them mention Arcann,” she said and sniffled again. She sounded like she had a nasty cold. “And the day he died.”

“I thought you did,” Koth said gently. He sat down on the platform next to her. “It’s still so recent isn’t it? I’m so sorry for everything.”

She glared at him and Koth suddenly fought the urge to shrink back; she looked too much like her old self when she was angry. This time, her blue eyes even seemed to flash yellow for a second, but then Koth blinked and they were blue again, and he thought that maybe he had imagined it.

Her scowl melted and she sighed. “Arcann… he was always the least of us. Didn’t have my power or Thexan’s strength.” Koth struggled not to ask what the difference was. 

“Arcann always trained so hard to compensate, always pushed himself harder than anyone else I knew. And all he wanted was for Father to tell him, ‘You did well, Son.” Even once! But he never did. And then Arcann went and got badly injured on Korriban. When he returned he hoped that at least now, after his horrific injuries, Father might clap. Nod. _Anything_. But when did Father ever do something like that? He just turned away and returned to his empty stare at the stars. Like he always did.”

“Arcann snapped. All his efforts, all his pain, and Father still turned away. He got so angry he attacked Father. Thexan intervened, only for Arcann to kill _him_ instead.” Koth gasped. He knew some of this but to hear Vaylin herself talk about it... “The brother he loved more than life itself, dead by his hand in a moment of blind rage. Then his anger melted and he realized what he had done. He was horrified. This wasn’t even the sort of mistake you can apologize and move on from.” Vaylin almost sounded like an adult again, but for the open distress in her voice.

“And Father chose that particular moment to say ‘Come with me, my Son.’” Vaylin positively snarled. This time her eyes really did turn yellow for the blink of an eye but Koth didn’t flinch, because he knew now that it wasn’t him, or Arro, or even the Alliance that Vaylin was angry with. It was her Father who held her ire. “How could Arcann be anything but fucked up after that?” 

She could take it no more. She started to sob uncontrollably and Koth took her in his arms, crying with her. Crying for the good man Arcann may have been, crying for his beloved Zakuul, and crying for the poor orphaned girl wailing in his arms.

It seemed that the galaxy—everything—was so broken that crying was the only thing left to do. Even on this peaceful planet so far from the war they could not escape from the tragedies of their past.

* * *

  
  



	16. Masks

* * *

**Contruum**

Following the abrupt end of the holo conference, tense conversations broke out through their small group. Even T7 hooted nervously, adding to the unease in the air, a change which began affecting Zora quickly. The pale woman began to tremble, and within minutes she was gasping for breath.

Lana reacted quickly; memories of Arro during his breakdown on Rishi had taught her to recognize and intervene before the panic attack could properly get its hooks in. She swiftly walked to Zora’s side, comforting her with an awkward hug and soothing words.

Zora calmed down eventually, her body shaking as she sobbed softly. The Emdee took over, leading the upset woman back to the medbay where she could rest. 

Lana supposed it had been too much to hope that the poor woman’s recovery was complete. There would be ups and downs and the process might take months if not years, but she had taken steps in the right direction. 

As with the news of SCORPIO’s sudden mobilization, there was little Lana could do but pray.

* * *

Lana slept badly that night. Zora’s entire situation felt a little too familiar to her; both from her own share of demons and her weeks on Rishi watching her lover slowly descend into a catatonic state following the resurgence of his memories as Lord Trykhgar. 

Despite his open misgivings, Arro—only eighteen at the time—had been roped in by the foolhardy Master Braga on his reckless quest to bring the Sith Emperor, Vitiate, to the Light Side. 

Why was Arro chosen? Because he had met the Emperor, sort of. His Padawan Kira had been a ‘Child of the Emperor’. Thanks to Darth Angral, the Emperor had finally caught up with his runaway “Daughter” and attempted to dominate her mind. In doing so, he had also ensnared Arro himself in a deep void, one which the fledgeling Knight had barely escaped. During his encounter he had seen the Sith Emperor’s power—but he had also seen his core. His ambition and his fear.

The experience had left him chilled and frightened, but the idiotic Jedi Master Tol Braga had seen this as a sign that Arro was innured to the entity’s existence and conscripted him to his team. The result: the entire thirty-Knight capture squad had been enthralled by the Emperor.

Before his mind was overtaken however, Arro had duelled the ancient being and won; and for his skill—and to avenge his own petty humiliation—the Emperor had anointed Arro as Lord Trykhgar: the Emperor’s Demon and unleashed him on the newly reopened hostilities of the Great Galactic War.

And what a demon he had been! For eight months he had killed and killed and killed. No one could stand before him; not powerful Jedi or treacherous Darths. In fact, his first mission had been to publicly duel and execute the Dark Councillor of Military Offense, Darth Vengean.

Trykhgar had beaten Vengean with a contemptuous ease and brutality that had left all Darths shaking for the next decade. In fact, Lana knew that Empress Acina still had an ongoing investigation on the matter—she had wanted to be certain that the monster was gone for good. Or at least, to have him leashed.

Poor Arro! When he had finally come to, his memories of those dark months were vague. He had been aware enough of them to be upset with the Council for disregarding his misgivings. But despite what he had suffered through, they had asked even more of him. They had made him their weapon, foiling the Emperor’s attempts to commit massacres on a grand scale. And Arro had done so, again and again. On Belsavis, on Voss, and on Corellia. Then he had entered the rancor’s den again, this time slaying the Emperor without the option to surrender.

The experience had left him a walking time bomb; full of untended hurts to his soul that just itched to go off with a loud bang. And on Rishi, they did.

He had woken suddenly one night, screaming and howling, and neither Lana nor Theron nor Jasme could do anything but watch helplessly. It was worse for Lana than the other two, for she was still getting used to her newly-forged bond. She found herself too easily distracted from her work for days and more and more of the work had found itself on Theron’s plate. 

It was a huge stroke of luck that Darths Prowle and Nox—both investigating their own suspicions about the attacks on Tython and Korriban—had arrived then. Actually it could have been a catastrophe—for at the time, Lana and Theron were accused of murdering Darth Arkous and Republic Colonel Darok; therefore the pair of Darths suspected Lana and her group to be the masterminds behind both attacks.

But Prowle had had her own Apprentice Jaesa Willsaam at her side. 

The young woman’s uncanny gift of seeing the truth had saved their lives—and probably the galaxy. She had simply told her Master that Lana was telling the truth and Prowle had accepted that without complaint. Nox had followed with some persuasion. With these two powerhouses joining them—and Colonel Queens of Havoc Squad too, whom Theron had lured to Rishi—they had made up for the loss of Arro from their frontlines several times over.

Waking up from yet another nightmare, Lana had given up on sleep for the night (from their bond, it felt like Arro might be doing the same later today when it was his turn to sleep). She went over to the fresher and splashed cool water on her face. Staring at her own glowing eyes in the mirror, she thought with some annoyance about lies and secret organizations and how her life seemed to revolve around conspiracies. 

Masks. She had tried to swear off the cloak-and-dagger routine but there were always more masks waiting around the corner. 

SIghing mournfully, she stretched out through the Force, feeling the air around her, then stretching out some more. Ther Dragoons were all asleep now, as was any sensible being; it was 0300 in the morning, local time.

But there was one person still having trouble sleeping just like her.

* * *

Zora looked up and smiled tremulously when Lana entered the medbay.

“Hallo there Zora,” she greeted. “I could sense you awake, thought I’d check in.”

“You’re too kind to me,” Zora said, eyes tearing up. “No one’s ever been so kind to me in my life.”

Lana sat down softly on the chair beside her bed and patted the woman’s knee. “That’s a damn shame, Zora. I’m sorry.”

Zora tried to wave her hand and say something, but whatever it was caught in her throat.

“You don’t have to speak,” Lana reassured her. “I’m just here in case you feel close to panic again.”

Zora sniffled and nodded. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to continue our discussion about the House of Masks from earlier. In fact, your timing is impeccable; I had only just finished this.” She nodded at a piece of paper on the tray and Lana turned her attention to it. She was immediately surprised.

“Why Zora! I never knew you were an artist.”

Zora stuck out her lips bitterly. “No one encourages a Sith daughter of a Dark Councillor to be anything but Sith-y and lightning.”

Lana nodded absently as she examined the drawing. “So these are the ‘Masked Council’?”

“Yes,” Zora nodded. “Darth Jadus you already know. The Zabrak is Nightfather Jhestyr, and the Cathar is Lord Panathar. The togruta is Sir Ruvin.”

_ So this is the new enemy _ , Lana thought.

Panathar was a melanistic Cathar, with fur so black you couldn’t see the usual spots or stripes that decorated most Cathar faces. Jhestyr was a Dathomiri Zabrak, rose-red face split by a wide smile and adorned in a tattoo that reminded Lana of a spider sitting at the center of a web.

Sir Ruvin, the Jedi, had blue skin and eyes. She didn’t stand out much. She wore decorated shoulder-pads and a white sash around her torso pulled over ordinary brown robes.

“What it is the House of Masks does, I do not know,” Zora said, sipping a cup of tea. “Jadus is the Crimson Scorpion, the face of discord. He meets a lot of people. And I do mean a  _ Lot _ . Over the past few years the  _ Stinger’s Shadow _ flew from one world to the next, to the next. Always meeting people, always mongering hate and fear.

“The Face of Hysteria, Jhestyr, is the White Spider. I know not what webs he weaves. I don’t know if he can even talk. All he did in meetings was laugh. Sometimes though, the others would listen to him laughing as though there were some insights hidden underneath the wheezing.

“The Face of Scarcity is the Cathar Lord Panathar. The Black Locust. He’s a frightening man but I’m sure he’s not a Sith. He’s a wealthy nobleman. But he can use the Force in his own way; when he’s looking at you, all of your fears rise up to the surface and paralyze you.

“Finally, Sir Ruvin is the Pale Scarab, the Face of Extinction. All I know about her is that she is a brilliant duellist, better than even Jadus. She is so strong that she is the leader of this august gathering.”

“She’s an ex-Jedi, you said?”

“Well,” Zora’s eyes crinkled as she frowned. “She still behaves like a Jedi. No attachment, no emotions, no darkness. You can actually Feel her attunement to the Light side. And yet she’s right up there in that Council, and as their leader no less.”

Lana was still thinking about Zora’s revelations. “The Faces of Discord,” she murmured. “Hysteria, Scarcity, and Extinction…”

Her ruminations were brought to an abrupt end by the sound of sirens.

* * *


	17. SCORPIO's Grudge

* * *

**Contruum**

In the aftermath of SCORPIO’s first grand offensive, Lana and her team were anxiously watching the special news broadcast on the holonet. For once, even Kaliyo was silent.

“This is Kinoko Sharale of the Nebcon Corellian News Network,” their anchor spoke gravely. “Reporting LIVE from Coruscant. Less than an hour ago, ships from the Eternal Fleet emerged outside orbit of our capital and attempted to bombard the Empress Teta sector. Fortunately, Republic High Command was alerted to the possible threat and was able to deploy the planetary shield in time to prevent any damage whatsoever. Ground based artillery and orbital defense facilities opened fire on and destroyed several of the enemy ships before the rest of the fleet pulled away. We are told that the warning came courtesy of Odessen Alliance Commander Arro. Many in the Senate have criticized the former Jedi Master’s carelessness in allowing the rogue droid SCORPIO to gain control of the Throne during the Battle of Odessen, but it is good to know that he has not lost his edge. Perhaps he can dethrone another Empress before the year is done.”

“In the meantime, we are getting reports that Coruscant was not the only world to be attacked. Dromund Kaas, Corellia, Balmorra, Koros Major, Manaan, Kothlis, Onderon, Alderaan, Commenor, Contruum, Nubia, Carida, Balmorra, Kuat, and many other worlds have also successfully repelled attacks. But not all worlds were as lucky. Defenses on Dubrillion, Ryloth, Tython, and Nyssa have proven lacking. These worlds are currently under bombardment, with operations underway to relieve them. We remind our viewers that Tython was abandoned at the end of Emperor Arcann’s War. There are few Republic resources left on-world although the illegal Twi’lek Settlement called Kalikori Village still remains. In contrast, Dubrillion is a wealthy and important world that is known to boast a powerful shield and ground batteries. It also has seventeen dedicated fighter squadrons and two Eagle-Class Cruisers with its own escort ships. Why these defenses and more weren’t readied when the alert went out is unknown. What _is_ known is that we are at war once again. We will return with more news as it comes to us. Until then, stay safe. Do not attempt Hyperspace travel until it is confirmed that the Eternal Fleet has returned to Wild Space.”

Lana sighed and rubbed her temples with her fingers. Time was running out. She decided that if they didn’t have Jadus by the next fortnight, she would abandon her hunt for him. Whatever he might say about this, her husband needed her.

* * *

**Dubrillion. In a Bunker beneath Count Rineld’s Castle**

Risha was not pleased. In fact, she was _pissed_. How dare that stupid droid attack her home? And why the blazing starcluster fuck hadn’t that King-supremo of all skunk asses—the usurper King Actavarus III—deployed those defenses yet? They’d certainly had enough warning; nine hours of it!

Vette returned from her survey of the bunker. “Heya Princess,” she gave her the double finger guns, the old Drayen crew’s salute. It was what Nok had called Risha back in the old days, and Vette was quick to return to old habits. Risha actually enjoyed it, but today she _really_ wasn’t in the mood.

“ _What?_ ” She asked her old buddy testily and Vette recoiled.

“Claws out today, hmmm? C’mon sweetie, y’know how there’s always room for some humor…”

“Not today little Vette,” Risha seethed. “Those are _my_ people being massacred out there and they really shouldn’t _have_ to be! This world has top-of-the-line shields and batteries! That bombarding fleet should be slag by now! Why haven’t they been deployed yet?”

“I dunno. Your hubby is looking into it…”

“What?” Risha interrupted. “He’s going out there? Into _that_?” She pointed at her screen which showed the surface being blasted by continuous fire from orbit.

Vette sighed. “Credit him with some intelligence, kay? He’s in communications, he got some of your people sending out probes. He’s looking into it _from a safe distance_.”

Risha grunted. That was actually pretty smart. “I’m heading over there, maybe I can help.”

Vette swerved into her path. “Oh no you don’t. Not until you calm down. Things are tense enough as they are.”

“Vette, _move!_ ” Risha snarled but the small Twi’lek shook her head. “Out of my way, or I’m taking back Mister Took!”

Vette recoiled as if stung, then mournfully pulled her old doll from her pack and handed it to her. Vette showed no hesitation, but Risha did. Vette had always loved the little doll, so much that when Nok went underground, Risha kept it to remember her by. She had returned it to her when the younger woman had come to Dubrillion and Vette had squealed with delight and hugged it so tightly that it’s arm almost fell off.

“Listen, Risha,” Vette said dead seriously. “I get it. King Ass has really gone and messed up, and your subjects are suffering. But you’ll do no good shouting at everyone. You need to be calm in order to do any good.”

Risha sighed. Vette was right. The best thing Risha could do now was to calm down. Her people needed it. She could not help them with an angry head.

She closed her eyes and took a few calming breaths. After a few minutes, she opened them. Vette had ,oved out of her way.

“Vette, sweetie? See to it that all the civilians in the bunker are comfortable and taken care of. There’s no telling when this will end.”

Vette gave the finger-gun salute again and beamed. “Right-o!”

* * *

“Can you please say that again, Captain?” Risha couldn’t believe what she had just heard.

The man saluted—an ordinary salute this time; no finger guns from him.

“The Shield Generators and ground-based defenses have been totally stripped on the inside,” he repeated. He didn’t even try to keep a crisp professional demeanor—he was stunned, and showing it. “They’re mere shells. There’s barely an ounce of technology inside of either one that’s more advanced than the stone age.”

Risha, Juun, and Merritt shared a horrified glance. There was a long silence punctuated by the patient shelling happening outside. 

“Could it be sabotage?” Juun asked but Risha was already snorting. Rage threatened to boil over but she would not lose her cool this time. She would channel that anger, perhaps use it to cook the king’s useless behind and hear him scream.

“There are easier ways of sabotage than taking everything apart,” Merritt said, shaking his head in anger. “And if this _was_ sabotage, it’d have been detected. That it hasn’t means that _someone_ stole them, then covered their tracks.”

“Acta-beer-pot?” Juun asked, using her… creative nickname for the usurper king. 

“Yes,” Merritt nodded gloomily. “About fifteen years ago he tried to raise taxes to pay for an expensive Corellian Longstrider Luxury Yacht. The Council of Peers stopped it of course, but then he ended up ‘finding’ the money anyway. Now we know how.” 

“Wait a second,” Juun spat out. “What did you say? He stole parts from his own planetary defense during an _ONGOING WAR_? That’s treason! Even for a king!”

“He was never one to engage in long-term thinking,” Merritt responded derisively. “We had assumed that there was foul play involved but it’s not like we had the powers to launch an investigation into our king! And the Republic had become busy with the resurgence of hostilities.”

“But… but…” Juun spluttered. “Fifteen years! All of that technology was scavenged _fifteen years ago_ , and _no one_ noticed?”

Risha grimaced in disgust and rage. “Those facilities are technically off-limits to anyone without authorization from the ruling monarch himself. Even a Republic Investigator would need clearance signed not only by the Supreme Court of Dubrillion, but from the entire Senate!”

“It gets worse,” Merritt said urgently. “Scavenging those defenses shouldn’t cover _half_ of his extravagant lifestyle! Maybe not even a fifth! What other _measures_ has our dear king taken that have endangered our world’s security only to pay for one of his extravagances?”

Outside, the cannonfire continued to fall like heavy rain.

* * *

**Coruscant, Office of the Supreme Commander**

“How are the relief preparations going?” Priya Corrs asked. The dusky-skinned Senator from Dubrillion was quite agitated, trembling and drumming her fingers on the table.

If there was one aspect of his work as Supreme Commander of the Republic Armed Forces that Jace Malcom hated, it was speaking to bureaucrats and Senators. But there were times it didn’t feel like he was talking to officials, but rather to a grieving parent whose only surviving child was in mortal peril. 

“Regretfully Senator,” he said, trying to make a placating gesture. “We cannot divert any ships in case the Fleet returns to bombard other worlds.”

“Please, Supreme Commander!” She pleaded. “Surely you can spare… Just a few ships from each sector fleet and you can have a fleet big enough to repel the Zakuulan ships!”

“I’m sorry, Senator. My orders come from the Office of the Supreme Chancellor. Disobeying means that not just me, but anyone else who follows me will be relieved of duty and court-martialled. Down to the last Private and Mouse Droids.” _And in this political climate, our executions. Followed by blacklisting of our families._

The Senator’s mouth worked furiously. “Then _get Court-Martialed_!” she screamed inconsolably. “Your duty is to protect us from foreign aggression! How many of you soldiers can the Supreme Chancellor kill anyway? He’ll end up executing one in every third soldier just to keep the other two in line!”

Malcom didn’t answer. That was precisely what Supreme Chancellor Madon—or rather, his puppeteer Former Chancellor Saresh—would do. She had become a cruel dictator, and her once admittedly aggressive but pro-Republic nature had been replaced by a lust for power, and a willingness to eliminate anyone who got in her way. The recent execution of Laszlo Pavlov—Former Governor of Ord Mantell and a retired war hero who had dared to stand up to her—had sent shockwaves throughout the Republic Command. Any attempt to investigate his fiery death had been thwarted from the shadows. Virtually all of High Command knew by now that Saresh was behind this dastardly murder but no one dared to go up against her.

Ord Mantell had been placed under direct control of the Supreme Chancellor’s office—and Saresh’s control personally—purportedly in response to this ‘terrorist attack’. But there were no investigations, no arrests, and a private military force answering only to Saresh had emerged from the woodwork to police the world.

“No, this isn’t Madon, is it?” Priya whispered. “This is that foul asp Saresh!” Malcom’s staff squirmed uneasily around them and Malcom himself loosened his collar just a little. This could get dangerous.

“That tyrant! That power hungry-backstabbing warmonger!” She continued raving. “It’s her fault the Republic has become a police state! Back in the day the Republic would never abandon key worlds like this!”

That strictly wasn’t true. Reinforcing the more critical strongpoints even if it meant stripping the defenses from even heavily populated worlds was common practice in any war in history. And Dubrillion was hardly a key world. But Jace acknowledged privately that militaries would at least be making a show of protecting such worlds—even if it was just a token force they sent. Especially since they weren’t so badly stretched yet; this droid’s offensive had just started, and the Republic had managed to rebuild a good portion of its fleets in the years following Arcann’s war.

The Senator continued screeching when security wearing orange uniforms and blue armbands marched in and escorted her out.

Long after the procession had left his office, Malcom asked his staff “Which one of you called the Chancellor’s Police?” No one answered.

 _They’re going to ‘find her’ dead tomorrow_ Malcom thought. _A suicide after having watched her homeworld burn._

How had it come to this?

A wave of nausea overcame him and he fought to not sick up in front of his staff. He walked to his command chair as steadily as his shaking knees allowed and collapsed into it. He spent the rest of the hour in deep thought. Afterwards, he left a message for his daughter, Jasme.

“The Chancellor has ordered us to abandon Dubrillion and Ryloth,” he croaked. “There are few left who can relieve them.”

He sent the voice message then collapsed in on himself. He might face some consequences for reaching out to the Alliance Commander, even in this roundabout way—Jasme had gone to great lengths to hide her involvement with them on his insistence. But that didn’t matter much when dealing with an extrajudicial police. 

He did not fear his own death, but merely knew how it would affect the military, and therefore the security of the Republic as a whole if they gunned him down on some pretext. He just hoped he could live and serve the people of the Republic just a little longer. Perhaps long enough for the conflict to end, and the madness with it.

He had lost his faith in Jedi infallibility long ago, but just once, he prayed that Jedi Master Arro would come through. Just once.

* * *

**Odessen**

“Why haven’t those damn defenses been deployed yet?” Admiral Aygo demanded in a thundering voice. It was Major Jorgan who answered.

“Most of the world is rubble right now. If they haven’t deployed them yet, it means they can’t. Something must be wrong there.”

“But what?” Arro asked. “Is it a catastrophic systems failure? Sabotage? We need to know if the ground defenses will kick in if relief comes, otherwise we’ll just be sending good people to their deaths.”

“I believe I know the answer to that,” Theron Shan answered. He had excused himself from the War Room to take a priority call. “I just got a call from Captain Juun Stede, also known as the Voidhound. She was on Dubrillion when the bombing started. Communications were jammed, she risked everything by running the blockade by herself to send us this information.

“Apparently the Council of Nobles sent in probes to investigate why defenses were down, and they found that those facilities were scavenged for anything and everything worth stealing years ago.”

“How could that happen?” Mandalore—Shae Vizla—asked. “Their security that bad?”

“No. Their own king took apart anything he could to fund his extravagant lifestyle. It’s not just defenses that are gone. Its defense fleet and squadrons have been gutted too. And he was able to hide his tracks because it’s up to him who enters or leaves such critical facilities.”

There was an explosion of incredulity in the War Room, but Arro made a gesture and they fell silent. “So that’s it then,” Arro said. “If we want to protect Ryloth, Dubrillion, and Nyssa, we have to muster substantial forces.”

“Not necessarily,” Jasme walked in. “I just got this message from Daddy.”

She inserted her datapad into a station and a brief audio message played. Arro barely recognized Commander Jace Malcom.

_“The Chancellor has ordered us to abandon Dubrillion and Ryloth. There are few left who can relieve them.”_

“So even the Republic has abandoned these worlds to their fate,” Mandalore muttered. “But tell me again why this means we don’t need to send in everything we have?”

“Because of the subtext,” Jasme said, her eyes glowing fiercely. “Ships from the Republic navy might not be able to do anything, but what if they are no longer part of the Republic navy?”

Aygo understood immediately. “I’ll bring up a list of ships whose Captains and crew I _know_ would join us if they knew.”

“We can ‘request’ recordings from the Supreme Commander's offices to be sent in from the SIS but via Sith Imperial Intelligence,” Commodore Pardax added. “That way we can keep the Supreme Commander’s name out of this.”

“We have intel that Saresh even blacklists family members when she’s unhappy with someone,” Arro said. 

“That’s alright,” Aygo answered. “I’ve called in a few favors over the last couple of years, arranged a lot of transfers. I guarantee that the ships on my list contain mostly ‘orphaned’ crews. Little or no family to speak of.”

“And we can pull out the rest,” Hylo added.

Arro nodded. “Let’s start then.”

* * *

Lana read through Arro’s summary of the last two days eagerly but at the back of her mind she thought _Why those worlds?_

SCORPIO wouldn’t act without a reason. She wouldn’t choose worlds at random. Tython, Nyssa, Dubrillion and some of those other worlds were outliers; either too insignificant or too poor to affect the Republic or Sith by their destruction. Why would she attack them? Fear tactics? The galaxy already knew what the Eternal Fleet was capable of, and this offensive was largely a failure.

She got her answer from an unexpected source. Her comm started ringing, and she answered it to find an old friend on the other line.

“Shara!” Lana grinned. “I wasn’t expecting a call from you right now!”

The wan woman smiled. She had been one of Lana’s closest friends both in her years in Intelligence and when she was searching desperately for Arro. 

But her experiences during the war had left a permanent mark on her constitution, and she had been confined to her recovery pod for the past decade. Lana had tasked her with several major long-term programs in that time—such as setting up the network of spies and suppliers for the Alliance, a job Shara had been only too happy to pounce on. They still kept in touch; Lana had kept her abreast of the Jadus situation, and only the day before sent her the transcripts of their meeting.

“I’ll say!” Shara answered. “I wouldn’t have either, except I picked up two very interesting tidbits.”

“I’m all ears,” Lana said.

“This is urgent, so I’ll keep this short,” Shara said. “The first thing—and do send this to Arro as well—is that I think I know the reason why SCORPIO chose those worlds; the top members of the Star Cabal hailed from most of those worlds. Dromund Kaas didn’t, of course, but she probably chose that world for the same reason she hated the Star Cabal; she held a grudge against anyone who had controlled her before, including Imperial Intelligence.”

Lana’s eyes cleared, her lips frozen in an “Oh!”

She shook her head. “What was the other tidbit?”

“This was a brief intercept,” Shara said. “The White Maw came across an Imperial _Terminus_ -class ship on Hoth. They opened fire, damaging its hyperdrives and steering. They caught its name: the Scorpion. We’ve found Jadus’ ship.”

* * *

  
  



	18. Closing In

* * *

**In orbit around Contruum**

Lana sat in the small sailer she had purchased for herself, piloting it towards outer space, having set out immediately after Shara’s call. 

_ “So you’re going in, alone?” _ Shara asked anxiously.

“Yes,” Lana said. “Time is of the essence; Jadus has been found and slowed but the maintenance crews aboard the  _ Scorpion _ might repair the damage to its hyperdrive within a matter of hours. Kaliyo’s ship’s hyperdrive motivator and circuitry burned out after a failure during the jump from Nar Shaddaa, which has still not been repaired. There’s no telling when it will be ready again. And the Alliance has its hands full with SCORPIO’s sieges. I cannot wait.”

_ “Tell me that you are at least taking a safe route through Hyperspace,” _ Shara begged. _ “Republic ships have engaged the Scorpion, and the Empire has also marked it as a rogue vessel to be attacked on sight.” _

Lana shook her head.  _ “I do not want to trust either the Republic or the Empire with Jadus’ demise; like the Order of Revan years ago, Jadus clearly has contacts on both sides. And don’t forget, Jadus has an Orkam Type-3. The Scorpion might easily kill ships or entire fleets. As for my Hyperspace route, I’ll be taking a risky but used route. There is only a ten per cent chance of meaning up dying in a star.” _

_ “Ten Per Cent is crazy!” _ Shara protested. _ “I do hope the rewards are worth the risk.” _

“It will get me there in one hour instead of six.”

_ “Well, it’s not like you haven’t done risky before,” _ she sighed. _ “It’s just that I swore off ever sending you into such dangerous situations. Never again, not after...” _

“I know,” Lana replied. “You are the best friend a woman could ask for.”

_ “As are you Lana,”  _ she said. _ “If anything happens to you, I promise I’ll look after your husband for you.” _

Lana grinned wide. “Thank you.”

_ “Can we talk about this new organization, this ‘House of Masks’?” _

“Please.”

_ “I read your summary of Jadus’s activities,” _ Shara said. _ “It seems that he spent his years after Operation Eradicator spreading war and unrest. In other words, spreading discord just as his title suggests. It is my belief that the rest of the Masked Council also have functions similar to their titles.” _

Lana frowned, nodding slowly. That had potential. “So by following that line of thought, Nightfather Jhestyr spreads hysteria, Lord Panathar causes scarcity, and Sir Ruvin brings... extinction?”

_ “Sir Ruvin is a bit of a mystery,” _ Shara said, eyes closed as she put her thoughts into words that an ordinary mind might understand.  _ “Although I’ve found records of a Jedi who might be her; the padawan of Master Kalisa Ghenso, who was thought to have been killed by native primitives on Tython but who survived and later returned to the Jedi Temple almost unscathed. She had spent three months in hostile territory armed with only a training sword. She had not even taken the weapons from slain primitives, crude though they might have been. I also have reports of a Jedi Knight of a similar description clearing out deeply entrenched Imperial forces on Balmorra like it was child’s play, and who held back a tide of prisoners on Belsavis by herself. Another record of a blue-skinned togruta killing the Dread Masters on Oricon. No names, sadly. For all I know, these are all three different Jedi. But… extinction? I’m not seeing it. Sure she has killed scores of Sith and soldiers, but no more than most other Jedi. Fewer than most Sith obviously.” _

“What about the others?”

_ “Jhestyr I know little about,”  _ Shara said slowly.  _ “There is a record of a clan of Zabraks on Dathomir dying of a laughing sickness, with only a few shamans surviving. But you know Dathomir; there are no records of any sort there. Barely any technology either. Their people rely on Force rituals and magicks.” _

_ “Then there’s this ‘Panathar’. Him we know a lot about. His real name is Roshan Tussek.” _

Lana knew that name. “The owner of GSI industries. ‘We stay neutral so you don’t have to’.” Or, as many civilians and soldiers derisively put it: ‘You pay us for the weapons that will kill you’.

_ “That’s the one,” _ Shara confirmed. _ “He owns more than just GSI though. He has bought thousands of companies in the food industry across the galaxy. He owns over seventy per cent of the food production industry across the galaxy. And forty per cent of oil wells and refineries. Thousands of Mining companies too. Through proxies of course. I myself hadn’t realized until I looked thoroughly. _ ”

“You did that in less than two days?” Lana asked incredulously. “That’s a record, even for you!”

_ “I don’t have too much else to occupy my mind,”  _ Shara answered modestly. _ “Basically, he is single-handedly responsible for the resource crisis that looms over the galaxy, especially food. He has been choking production. Food stores are down so badly that Ecumenopoleis like Coruscant are barely able to feed their in-the-trillions populations. Food reserves are so low—so ‘scarce’—that their prices have been heavily inflated to almost seven times what they were before Zakuul invaded. If SCORPIO commits to a true siege the way Arcann did, Ecumenopoleis will starve to death in a matter of weeks.” _

“How is he causing food shortages?”

_ “Under cover of trade, he ships off tons of food to hundreds of ‘remote’ star systems. In many cases he engineers fuel shortages, or gets security bills passed through the Senate that greatly delay shipping, causing food to simply spoil and rot as they await shipping. He’s also a master of playing with numbers. There is little we can do about it too; I can spread the rumors until it’s all anyone talks about, but he’s protected by so many layers of proxies that nothing can ever be proven. And most people everywhere don’t have the strength to riot either. In fact I wouldn’t be surprised if he has strategies in place for such an eventuality; he’s an ingenious businessman.” _

Lana let out the breath she had been holding. This was quite the enemy that had been hiding in the shadows. She dearly hoped that catching Jadus would allow them to get more information on his allies.

“Could you please forward all of this information to Arro?” she requested. “The others need to know about it. And he may know something about Sir Ruvin that we don’t.”

_ “Consider it done.” _

“See you soon.” I hope.

_ “I’ll hold you to that.” _

* * *

**Aboard the** **_Scorpion_ **

**The Bridge**

The  _ Scorpion _ was now six hundred thousand kilometers away from the ice planet of Hoth and increasing the gap. The cold world was now the size of a thumbnail in the viewports, but the Republic ships did not break off from their pursuit as Captain Torn Eugens had hoped. Perhaps they saw an Imperial ship whose hyperdrive and steering were both damaged as a most irresistible prize.

He had ordered the deceptively mighty vessel’s main gun—its cutting edge Orkam Type 3 Orbital Bombardment Cannon—to hold off from firing because he knew that firing such a powerful weapon would alert the Republic to its existence. And possibly trigger a frantic manhunt for them.

But he was running out of options. The reinforced shields were nearly depleted, most of its point-defense cannons had been disabled, and even the last of their fighter screen had been shot down. 

Captain Eugens was pleased with how coolly his men responded to the situation. There was no unease in the air, no uncertainty. His bridge crew were veterans of a dozen difficult campaigns; from the assaults on Corellia, to the failed coup above Ilum, to the confused free-for-all at Rishi; they had been thoroughly tempered. They had learned how to keep their cool.

“Ensign Gagan: begin charging the Type-3,” he ordered. “Target their lead Dreadnought.”

The officer gave the order and Eugens imagined he could actually feel their main gun swivel around to target their rear. He imagined the high pitched whine of the reactors charging the gun. He knew it was just idle fancy though; the cannons were not that much more noisy than any of their other weaponry.

A display on his left showed him the progress; it was slow: it took about fifty seconds to charge fully. An eternity to a bridgecrew under constant fire.

“Fully charged and locked on target sir.”

“Fire at will.”

The  _ Scorpion _ had hitherto kept their defensive fire focussed on the bombers harassing them, so it might have come as a shock when their gun fired at the fleet. There had been seven ships on their tail—the one Dreadnought and six heavy cruisers—and all flying in tight formation so that their shields overlapped a little, thereby increasing their already formidable defenses.

The defense was predicated on the enemy weaponry being conventional, but there was nothing conventional about the Type-3.

It hit the dreadnought with such tremendous force that its violent explosion destroyed three of its escort ships outright and two more veered off course and rammed each other. The sole remaining ship was scorched, its engines failing and shields stripped.

“Charge to two per cent,” Eugens ordered. “And finish that last ship.”

“Two per cent charge complete. Targeting surviving ship. Fire!” The defenseless last ship stood no chance.

“What about the enemy starfighters?”

“Seven bombers and three starfighters. But they’re fleeing.”

Eugens yearned to destroy the last witnesses of his ship’s weapon, but the  _ Scorpion _ had nothing left with which to shoot down such small and agile craft.

“Let them go,” he said regretfully. “Corporal Denis, contact all repair teams, we need that Hyperdrive fixed quickly. Having steering again before the end of the day would be nice too.”

* * *

Lana’s small fighter completed its approach just in time to see the  _ Scorpion _ ’s main gun doors open. Though she couldn’t tell by sight, her instincts screamed that this was the dreaded Type-3 Orkam cannon. She docked her ship at one of the  _ Scorpion _ ’s many hatches and waited as her program remotely sliced the door so that she could enter the ship undetected. The hatch opened a few seconds before the cannon fired at its target and mid-way through scrambling through the door, Lana stopped and looked out the viewport to see its power firsthand.

The destructive power paled in comparison to the  _ Gravestone _ , but that ship had been powered by a higher Force Entity. This one was much more electronic than Force wizardry, so Lana was quite impressed at its performance. It took out six ships with a single shot, and the seventh was finished off without even half a recharge.

Lana was deeply intrigued; if the Alliance could acquire this design, they would no longer need to rely on the  _ Gravestone _ , whose most recent display of power had frightened all the Force users in the Alliance. 

She made a mental note as she boarded the  _ Scorpion _ : do not destroy this ship if possible.

Then, without a backward glance she ordered her fighter to disconnect, setting it adrift in space. She would likely never see it again, but it had served its purpose well; fifty thousand credits well spent.

* * *

Darth Jadus sat cross-legged on the floor of his meditation chamber aboard the  _ Scorpion _ .

Over the course of his life, he had accrued many titles and pseudonyms, among them Dark Lord of the Sith, Head of the Pyramid of Intelligence, Count Padron Rineld, and Lord Stygian.

He had once been a devout believer of the Sith Code and follower of the Empire. Over the years, he had supported many attempts of terror and secession within the Empire itself in the staunch belief that adversity and hardships made it stronger. That was one of the core tenets of Sith philosophy.

And for a time, it seemed to work as the deadwood was whittled away. But there were surprises and upsets. 

The defeat of the mighty Darth Angral and the complete dismantlement of his most trusted power base by a fledgeling Jedi should have alerted Jadus to the faults within the Sith but he had ignored the warning bells.

Then many of the powerful had fallen to infighting among the Sith. That was also expected but losses such as Darths Vengean and Skotia were difficult to replace. Their losses created an upheaval as many lesser Sith like Zash had struggled to fill the void. Then there was the odd supernova like Lord Trykhgar; burning so bright and holding so much promise but disappearing without a trace. That last had truly annoyed Jadus, for Trykhgar had killed many prominent Sith who had been his allies before his untimely disappearance; such as Darths Vengean, Raziel, Kurghan, Veyer, Burne, and Qog.

He had revelled when the Empire had gone to war again but then in the chaos six Darths of the Dark Council were killed within a span of days, only one of whose losses was ever truly replaced; Decimus, Hadra, Arho, Acharon, and Baras. Thanaton at least was replaced by the much more capable Darth Nox. The new Wrath had not initially impressed Jadus, not until her superb performance in Emperor Arcann’s War many years later.

The death of the Emperor had been a true shock; a major turning point. That such an ancient and all-pervasive fixture of their society would just roll over and die to a single Jedi had been unthinkable; and had been a blow so powerful that no one could help the Empire recover from it. But even so, Jadus had supported Malgus; the last great Sith who Jadus believed could forge the Sith into something new. Alas he too had met a quick end, and his brief flame had done little to harden the Empire’s metal. That was when Jadus’ eyes had begun to open at long last.

The war might strengthen individual Sith, perhaps even individual soldiers, but it was an inferno that swallowed resources. It did not make the Sith stronger, it weakened every party involved in the fighting unless they enjoyed a great technological superiority, like Zakuul had during that war.

Certainly, he believed that had Zakuul attacked in the days before the Great Galactic War, the Sith would have been Zakuul’s equal. 

With this realization came the knowledge that the Sith code was a lie. It promised nothing but oblivion. All those years of fomenting infighting among his people suddenly seemed meaningless, except for the destruction it caused.

Enraged, Jadus had given himself over to the fire. Sowing the seeds of conflict was all he knew. If it drowned the galaxy in oceans of blood and tears, then so be it. He would eradicate all of galactic society for peddling its false beliefs among its people.

But now he sensed the end coming; never before had he been discovered twice within the same year, and now he’d been fired on twice in the span of a month. And that Sith from Ord Mantell… he had been too quick to dismiss her then which had been a mistake. If he had realized that it was the famous Lana Beniko in that ship, he might have ordered the  _ Scorpion _ to capture her as well, for she was one of the few Sith to have earned his respect after the death of Malgus.

But in his arrogance he had let her go, and his instincts told him that their next—and final—confrontation was at hand. He did not fear death, but he had once feared that his legacy would be undone by it. 

But his compatriots within the House of Masks would keep his work alive. If the end was nigh he would embrace it as an old friend.

Indeed, he found himself eager to meet the fiery eyed woman again.

* * *


	19. Ghost in the Ship

* * *

**In the depths of space**

**Aboard the** **_Scorpion_ **

As a reward for their cool-headed discipline under fire, Captain Eugens had ordered his bridge crew to take a few hours’ rest while the maintenance crews worked. All systems were on autopilot and the bridge was mostly clear except for himself and some technicians.

His comm buzzed and he answered, “This is Captain Eugens.”

_ “This is Ensign Niida from Maintenance, sir. The Hyperdrive can be fixed but Steering is too badly damaged to be repaired. We may need to call for help.” _

“Unacceptable, Ensign!” the Captain snapped. “Can you at least repair it enough for a jump to a friendly port?”

“ _ No, sir. We’ve simply taken too much damage _ .”

Eugens fought his rising temper. Decades of service under Jadus had taught him the value of maintaining a calm outward demeanour. “What are our options?”

_ “There is only one system—an uncharted one—that is directly in our path, about four thousand parsecs away. Once we fix Hyperdrives, we can jump to it. From there, we can get into orbit around the star, and use its gravity to point us towards the Eliad System. We can send a distress signal to Commander Pallas for help from there. It will take us an estimated four months.” _

To think that after all its years of service the  _ Scorpion _ would take such major damage from mere pirates! The injustice made his stomach turn.

“Do it then. But no more talk of distress signals until we reach the Eliad System. If the Republic hears it they will want revenge for their defeat.”

_ “Understood Sir.” _

* * *

Lana listened closely to the Maintenance officer’s assessment of the damage with great interest. She had estimated four months until the ship could get to a friendly system on its own; which meant that it was off-comms and vulnerable for that long. She grinned. Four days was all she would need. 

A plan began to form in her head, a plan so familiar that she was reminded of those last days; they had been gruelling and painful, but also the best infiltration of her career. She had seen up close the unraveling and demise of her hated enemy in a manner so artful that it had been the perfect final operation of Cipher Nine. 

* * *

**Fourteen years earlier, aboard the Star Chamber**

Hunter covertly rolled her eyes as the top leadership of the Star Cabal bickered and postured following the loss of Corellia. Idiots, all of them. Maybe she was being too uncharitable. Not everyone could offer her the thrilling contest of shadows that her recent nemesis, and after Cipher Nine anyone would seem dull.

But Hunter could not help but imagine that Nine were still alive, perhaps even standing on the balcony above them, listening to these morons bicker. But that was not possible. She had been shot dead by a big Republic hit squad on Corellia. One of their few successes from the fiasco.

All of a sudden the Prince’s datapad chimed; the one reserved only for emergencies. He flipped it open and his fingers moved across the keys, accessing the message. As his eyes swept down the message, his expression grew more grave. 

Abruptly he looked up again, and spoke to his compatriots. "Protocol Seven is now in effect." 

As one, the expressions on the faces of all the Cabalists turned first to shock, then fear and consternation. 

"Acknowledged," they said in unison before all their holos dissolved. 

The Prince turned an accusing glare at Hunter, who cringed. "This is about Cipher Nine, isn't it?" 

"There's no time to discuss this," The Prince seethed. "If we move quickly, we can yet undo your mess."

Hunter nodded. Protocol Seven. Secure the most important articles in the base, wipe all traces, and go underground. Once they had done that, they could prepare to eliminate their thorny problem once and for all. 

"Follow me," the Prince said and walked swiftly towards the strong room. "We must secure the databanks. We must secure the Black Codex. And then we disappear like ghosts. If you can deal with Cipher Nine, then you might even avoid any consequences." 

* * *

**Chandrila, back to the present.**

It was late at night here at the Kraots’ estate, and the air was silent and peaceful. Koth was gently rocking the newborn Juun Kraot. Her parents were fast asleep, exhausted after another day of keeping the infant happy.

Koth was taken aback by how difficult that was; the baby would wake and cry and suckly and sleep dozens of times a day, and keeping her happy and her diapers fresh was a round-the-clock occupation that he and Vaylin joined in on. But it was also quite rewarding and enjoyable, in its own way. The first time she had smiled, the day before, Vaylin’s face had lit up with such a deep and all-pervasive joy that she had seemed to glow like a hundred morning suns. 

Vaylin was also asleep right now; it was Koth’s turn to watch over the baby, and he found himself dreading the day they’d have to leave Chandrila. He knew the day was fast approaching them. Events were moving again; Lana had found solid leads on her quarry that everyone hoped might have the Darth in her grip within the month; and SCORPIO had launched an all-out offensive against the entire Galaxy, meaning both that she didn’t know where Vaylin was, and that she was moving ahead with her own plans. That time would be here. Soon.

* * *

**Aboard the** **_Scorpion_ **

Captain Torn Eugens was roused by the beeping of his comm. He looked at the chrono: he had returned to his cabin only four hours ago. 

“Yes?” he asked.

“There has been an accident, Captain,” First Officer Cellik reported. “twelve dead, four more on the way. Another nine stabilized in the Medbay.”

The Captain was already out of bed and throwing his uniform on.

Ten minutes later he was on the Bridge, facing his First Officer and Maintenance Officer Syasha Niida. Both looked grave.

“There has been a cascade failure, Sir. Power Generation was affected by the damage to the Shield Generator, and it caused a power surge. Several power conduits blew on C-Deck killing the twelve and injuring the thirteen I mentioned earlier. Four of the injured died of burns before they could be stabilized. The other nine are in recovery.”

The Captain inwardly cursed. Such failures were not unheard of in badly damaged ships. 

“It gets worse, Sir,” Officer Niida said. “The cascade might not have ended there. It might be wise to expect more troub—”

As if right on cue, an alarm sounded shrilly. “Fire in the Engine Room,” a tech reported. “No one injured. Situation under control.”

“A corridor in Maintenance was vented following a malfunction,” another spoke. “Six technicians dead.”

“Lights out in Medical. Running on emergency power.”

“Sir,” the Maintenance Officer said urgently. “I recommend switching to emergency power ship-wide. All personnel to be equipped with oxygen masks and magnetized boots. In addition, all hands constantly patrol the ship, monitoring each section for signs of failure.”

The Captain gave a tired nod. “What about the Hyperdrives?”

“They’re ready Sir,” the Officer nodded. “But going to Hyperspace is currently inadvisable.”

“We cannot risk staying in the Hoth system any longer,” the Captain reminded her. “For all we know, those fighters have sounded the alert and the Republic is preparing another fleet to hunt us down as we speak. Besides, any explosions can push us off our present course, and onto more perilous ones with only stars and mass shadows at the end. We must make a jump to the system you identified as soon as possible.”

“Understood Sir,” the woman nodded. 

“You know my orders then.”

The bridge bustled with nervous activity for the next few minutes as the orders were given out. The Lights dimmed as the ship switched to emergency power, Air temperature control would go off soon, and the atmosphere would get very cold or hot depending on the equipment in the room. The air filters and fire suppression would no longer detect minor buildup of smoke or other contaminants in the air. And there would be no sleep for any one of the crew until the situation was under control again.

The next few days would be very uncomfortable.

* * *

**The next day**

On the Medical Officer’s insistence, the Captain retired to his cabin where he would be protected from most of the havoc caused by these failures. Over the next nine hours, the crew was cut down to a tenth of its size due to continuing failures. A tenth of a crew that had already been the bare bones because of the ship’s low profile.

It became a harrowing day for everyone. While in Hyperspace the danger of critical system failure causing them to be blown into oblivion across a hundred parsecs was quite real and no one dared breathe. The most basic update messages caused the entire bridge crew to tremble in fear and once, a younger technician lost her nerve completely and had to be escorted away—shrieking and sobbing—to the medbay.

There were thankfully no problems while they were in Hyperspace, but their reentry caused a plethora of exploded terminals and electrical fires. 

Several hatches opened unexpectedly, ejecting the unfortunate crew members who happened to be patrolling nearby into outer space.

Smoke in the Engine Room got so thick that technicians working there were no longer able to see so much as their hands in front of their faces. The filters on their masks were quickly overwhelmed as well, and they died groping for the doors. Overheating reactors vented excess heat directly into the Reactor room, cooking six nearby technicians. 

An explosion by one of the destroyed surface cannons exposed an entire section of the crew quarters to space.

Over fifty more crew members went missing without a clear indication as to the cause and were later found dead, causes indeterminate. The cascade failure appeared more like a vengeful ghost preying on the ship, and morale sunk lower by the minute.

There were several suicides as the crew began to crack under the pressure, and dozens more were taken to the medbay as the bad air quality and extreme temperatures caused heatstroke, asphyxiation, hypothermia, nausea, and other illnesses.

The Captain looked mournfully out his viewport as they neared the single world orbiting this star. It appeared white like snow, but the scan he ordered showed massive life form readings and a very tropical temperature. The humidity was high too.

_ So all that white must be clouds _ , the Captain mused.  _ Or fog _ . 

His comm rang yet again. “Yes?”

“Sir, I think we have a saboteur onboard.” First Officer Cellik whispered fearfully.

* * *

  
  



	20. Fog

*

Darth Jadus, Dark Lord of the Sith, the face of Discord, Harbinger of the House of Masks awoke as though from a deep sleep. His mind and his senses were all muddled. He had trouble opening his eyes, which had never felt so heavy his entire life. His hearing was dull as though there were thick cushions cupped against his ears. And his body felt so cold and unresponsive. 

His senses returned slowly, and he felt a biting pain in the base of his skull. He uttered a pained gasp and tried to sit up. 

"Darth Jadus!" came a familiar voice. "You're awake!" 

He opened his eyes to a blurry world and a face swam slowly into focus before him. "Captain Eugens. Where are we? What happened?" 

"We are in an escape pod, my Lord. We were boarded by an unknown saboteur sometime during the battle in the Hoth system. They spent a good fifteen hours whittling down our crew and making them look like accidents, like the ship was malfunctioning or haunted. But they got a little cocky, and slipped up. We were closing in on them when they realized that the game was up. 

“They activated the  _ Scorpion _ 's self-destruct. You were not answering your comms so I came to get you out myself. When I reached you, you were unconscious. You had a dart in your neck. I pulled you out, got you to a pod. 

“But the saboteur had one last laugh. The circuits on all pods were fried. No engines, no communications. We splash-landed on an unknown world, but I don't know if anyone else survived. We might be all that's left. I'm so sorry, my Lord."

Jadus tried to sit up but his limbs wouldn't obey his command. 

Torn moved forward to help him."Try not to move, my Lord. You were poisoned." 

Jadus looked around. His sight was returning, if slowly. His confused eyes found a furry quadruped sitting next to the Captain, frightened and fidgety but unharmed. Behind his mask, he smiled. "As ever, I see you have your cat with you." 

"Yes my Lord." His oldest confidant appeared embarrassed. He scratched the animal behind the ears, and it purred almost gratefully. “Regis VII is a very good boy.”

"I think that we can drop the titles and formalities, Torn. We are family after all." Even to his own ears his voice sounded slurred.

"Yes, Brother," Torn smiled. “You know, even in my head, I’ve made certain to only think of you as ‘Darth Jadus’ or the like.” His face was stoic but his voice was thick with emotion. Perhaps he was fighting the inevitable conclusion.

"It's true, Torn. I can sense the end upon us. Or at least, upon me." 

"Don't give me that talk, Bis! We can still make it. Our work isn't over yet!" 

"Perhaps not," Jadus mused. "But our part in it is. We must leave the rest to our allies." 

Torn was silent. 

“You doubt them, don’t you?”

“No I don’t,” he said softly. “As ever, I trust your judgement. But…”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know anything about them. If this is really the end… I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“Very well,” Jadus tried rolling over to a more comfortable position, aided by Torn. “The House of Masks exists to bring an end to all the lies of the galaxy.”

“The lies?”

“The lies every organization tells its followers in order to exist. The Republic. The Jedi. The Empire. The Sith.”

“Bis… the Sith? The Empire? They were your entire life! My entire life!”

“And they betrayed us,” Jadus said, his voice shaking with his own rage. “We have been at war for over forty years, and what have we to show for it? We won many battles against the Republic especially in the early days. But did those victories make us powerful? When Malgus provided a challenge to the Empire did it make them stronger? No. It exposed our weaknesses, tore away at our strength. A pointless waste of resources. And Malgus, the veteran of a thousand battles, who had never lost a fight, was bested. It was at that point I realized for certain; there would be no victors in the war; neither the Republic nor the Empire would ever again be what they were before the Great Galactic War. There is no replacing the resources burned in the machine of war!”

Jadus began to cough violently, his voice having risen in volume without his having noticed.

“It doesn’t matter who wins in such a near conflict. As Zakuul came and proved, both the Republic and Empire were too exhausted to face them. Would they have overwhelmed us so easily before the war? I think not. I think not.”

“So everything we went to war for was a lie?” 

Jadus did not answer.

“So where does the Council of Masks come into all of this?”

Jadus coughed again. “Sir Ruvin, the silent Knight—disillusioned by the Jedi; the business tycoon Lord Panathar, disgusted with profits for their own sake when the entire Galaxy was turning to ash; Nightfather Jhestyr, whose people died a most pointless death performing the same ritual his ancestors had for generations until its significance was lost altogether. Each of us felt cheated. But then we realized that this was what they all wanted—the Republic, the Empire, Zakuul, all of them down to the last civilian—they wanted to live in their world of kindling until the last embers burned it down around them. And we decided to let them have their lies and their ashes. We intended to hasten the process of decay and rot until the galaxy went back to the stone age… perhaps  _ then _ there would be some sense to everything again.”

“But… what are they going to _ do _ ?”

“The specifics? I do not know. I have been quite busy with my own preparations. We each went our own way, with only Ruvin keeping track of everyone’s progress.”

“Why Ruvin?”

“Because her part only begins when ours ends.”

Torn was silent after this. Jadus looked outside the viewport but thick fog prevented him from seeing anything at all. He reached out clumsily with his dulled Force senses, finding only wild swamp life in every direction.

“Come, Brother,” Jadus said. “After everything you have suffered through for me, it’s not right that I allow you to die a slow death in some swamp. Give me my lightsaber. I will give you the warrior’s end you deserve.”

Torn held out the hilt that had been sitting beside him.

* * *

**Fourteen years ago, aboard the Star Chamber**

Hunter quickly dialled his half of the codes and stood aside as the Prince keyed in his. The strongroom of this, the Star Cabal’s most treasured sanctum, was designed to only be opened for codes by at two high ranking members. For it kept their most valuable secrets and treasures.

A detailed dossier of all members and assets, present and former, and the Black Codex—the secret to their secrecy. It allowed them to modify galactic records as and when they pleased, rewriting history as they saw fit.

The Prince moved to secure the databanks while Hunter hurried to the safe which held the Black Codex.

“Hurry,” the Prince said as he worked behind him. “I want to be out of here by the end of the hour.”

“Yes sir—” Hunter acknowledged and the door finally opened with a hiss.

But inside it was… what?  _ How can this be? _

The Black Codex was missing from its place inside the vault. But it was what  _ was _ in there that absolutely stupefied the woman who had prided herself on her quick thinking.

Inside the safe was the comatose body of the same man who also stood behind her. She never even recovered from her shock. 

Lightning-fast, she felt a blow to the base of her spine, a needle driven into the back of her neck which paralysed her from the neck down.

“It took me half the time you did just now to open the safe,” the Prince spoke behind him. His voice became two speaking in tandem; one belonging to the Prince, the other to a woman she had hated and admired for three years.

But how? How had she not noticed that Cipher Nine had been right there among them, posing as—? When did she make the switch? How had she managed to fool everyone?

“Keyword: Checkmate. Die, you fucking bitch.”

* * *

Jadus looked confusedly at the hilt his brother offered him. “Torn? This isn’t my lightsaber—”

“No.” The blade came alive, a red bar of plasma ate its way through his gut. “It’s  _ mine _ .”

The form before him shivered and faded, leaving behind a pale woman with a savage grin on her face. He knew her though he had never met her face to face.

But how? How had Beniko passed for his brother so perfectly? When had she even replaced him? Where was his real body?

“I would have loved to have kept you alive,” the woman said. “To question you further. But you are a most dangerous insect.”

His insides burning and the stench of acrid burnt flesh filled his throat. Coughing up a steaming flow of blood that looked more like lava, Jadus took his final breath.

* * *

Lana clambered out of the escape pod, the dishevelled cat Regis safe in her arms. She cradled the frightened creature, cooing gently as she looked around. She had grown quite fond of the creature in the hours she had got to know Torn Eugens. Perhaps she would keep him! 

She looked around, but it was only a bit easier to see out here than it had been inside the pod. With a  _ huff _ , she pushed the fog outwards, leaving a clear patch for her to see. 

Good, the shore wasn’t too far off—   
Bracing herself, she Force-Leaped from the pod onto relatively dry land, then Pulled the pod towards her—she had packed it with supplies that she would need while help arrived.

The air here on this world was breathable but wet, and Lana soon felt very sticky.

Reaching across to her husband, she Sent him the name of the system and hoped he wouldn’t take too long before he pulled her out—humidity this thick came with health risks.

With nothing else to do she took a moment to feel proud of her work. She did not like the idea of killing so many people if she could help it—they might have been of some use later, and even if not, she thought she was less callous about the loss of life than most Sith—but there had been no choice. It was her against an army.

She had taken a line out of Theron Shan’s code and used her own cybernetics to write and store programs to systematically take over and sabotage the  _ Scorpion _ . She had caused one small failure after another, careful not to allow the chaos to get out of her control as more and more of the ship burned and died. All the while, she had sat in the Captain’s cabin with the sedated Captain himself, learning his mannerisms and history well enough to be able to fool Jadus for her interrogation.

Finding out that he had been Jadus’ brother—real name Torn Blackwood—had been a shock, and had brought a sliver of doubt to her mind, but she had solved that problem by using a poison dart. The disorientation it caused had been enough to fool Jadus.

But the more she thought about her achievement, the more guilty she felt about all of that wanton slaughter. In less than an hour of reaching the shore, her most recent meal had come out from her queasy stomach. Coughing and spitting the last of the bile from her mouth, she felt her husband’s alarm at the state of her mind and found comfort in the fact that she would be with him soon. He would help her feel better again.

More to keep herself occupied than anything, she explored the swamp world she had found herself in. 

As she had discerned from her earlier scans and her own observations, the planet was very foggy. Oppressively so. Even with the Force she couldn’t clear the area for a long time, and the opening would close quickly.

So she began to Reach out more strongly with her Feelings. To her surprise, she felt a vergence in the Force—in the Dark Side—and set out to find it. 

She found the place after another hour of hiking—a large tree sitting on top of the opening of a cave. Curious, she walked towards it.

* * *

Arro was completely focused on his wife’s emotions—she was deeply disturbed, and trying to fight it. Trying, and only barely succeeding.

He saw her in his mind’s eye, standing before the mouth of a cave. She looked about her and asked “What’s in there?”

Arro felt what she did—an answer unexpectedly coming as though across the ages, and from a gravelly voice. 

_ “Only what you take with you.” _

“Master?” Kira interrupted his vision urgently. “We’re here. The Dagobah system.”

* * *


	21. The Mirror

* * *

Lana carefully folded and stored the last of her clothes into her pack, and carefully laid it on top of a relatively flat outcropping of rock. Straightening up, it took an effort not to hide her nipples or privates; for there was no sentient life form anywhere on this world, but it was still a struggle not to feel conscious of her nudity. 

It couldn't be helped though. Somewhere along her career in Intelligence, she had come to associate stark nakedness with laying her soul bare as well, and she had never even noticed. 

She had remained oblivious until one night--after several weeks of sleeping together, when Arro had remarked that she had taken off all of her clothes for the first time that night--for her to realise. 

Sadly, she hadn't been able to overcome that subconscious connection she had made. And it went both ways; it was only when she had discarded the last stitch of her clothing could she begin to open herself completely. She would overcome this someday, she swore. But today was not the day. 

Besides, this was one of the rare occasions that she wanted to be as open and honest as possible. 

"What's in there?" she had asked aloud unintentionally.

That she got an answer did not surprise her as much as it would have if she hadn't already gotten accustomed to disembodied voices on Korriban. 

"Only what you take with you." 

She had understood. The Force nexus within this cave could give a person a glimpse of their true self. 

'Facing the Mirror', Arro had once called it, and apparently it was the last and sometimes hardest of the Jedi Trials. 

Lana had never worried about who she was before, but her guilt after killing all of those sailors aboard the  _ Scorpion _ had put her in an introspective mood. 

This mission had forced her to revisit the last of Cipher Nine's unresolved cases, forced her to bring back memories, habits, and methods that had long remained dormant, and she suddenly felt unsure about what she was. 

She needed to know that the specter of Cipher Nine was laid to rest once and for all, so she could become Lana Beniko again without reserve. 

Minutes ticked by, but still she hesitated. Then, with a final surge of effort, she walked into the cave, leaving her new friend Regis to look over her belongings. 

* * *

When she entered the cave, she felt the ever-present voice of the Force recede. She Flexed her will but found that she could neither affect the world around her nor even sense it. But to her relief, her bond remained strong. Turning a bend, she faced what seemed like a wall of solid mist. She tentatively reached her hand out to test the surface, when it cleared like the surface of a crystal lake. She saw her reflection staring back at her, eyes wide in surprise. At least, she thought it was just a reflection; then Arro appeared next to it, and gazed back serenely at her. His reflection took her breath away for a second; for he seemed decidedly more handsome and perfect than what he looked like in the real world. But before she could contemplate his apparent perfection, her eyes were drawn back to her own image.

Was it just her imagination, or was her reflection appearing older than she really did? No, it was not! As she looked on, her shade continued to age a little with every passing second. It was subtle, but after a few minutes, it’s face was gaunt and lined like she was at least two decades older. And growing older still by the second. Glancing back at Arro’s image, she noted that he had hardly changed. Even his expression was the same. 

It became apparent what this vision was about.

“Is this the best you can do?” She challenged her reflection. “Yes, yes, yes! The Carbonite prison widened the gap between us to eight years instead of three. I am already aware of that.”

She hadn’t thought there would be a response, and flinched when her older image leered. It now appeared in her late seventies.

“ _ Eight _ years?” The shade cackled. “I’m afraid it’s far worse than you think! That divide will only widen in the coming years!”

A chill crept up Lana’s spine when she heard those words. “What do you mean?”

“Search your feelings; you already know it.” Lana impressed herself with how unintimidated she was. “Too bad,” she shot back icily. “I suppose Arro and I will have to make do with what time we have left.

Just when her last words left her lips, her husband’s reflection finally began to change, but in a different way. It wasn’t his age, but his expression. First he appeared mournful, then upset, but then it changed to pain, and he doubled over, screaming soundlessly but what she beheld was enough to make it clear that his scream would have been so loud it would have damaged not only his vocal cords, but also his own eardrums.

“Arro!” Lana gasped, and tried to run to him but the earlier wall still lingered, even though it was near-transparent now. “Let me through!” she bellowed, slamming fruitlessly at the unseen barrier with her fists. “He needs help! He needs us! Can’t you see that!?”

Her shade grinned wide. Now pushing ninety, with hands so gnarled they appeared like claws. So hunched that she appeared to have shrunk to half her size. Her hair had fallen out in clumps, and her skin looked like spoiled milk. Her teeth yellowed and decayed and fell.

“Oh, I can’t see anything anymore.” 

So saying, she collapsed in a heap and exhaled a gasp of a pitiful, final breath. 

And then Arro’s reflection grew worse. It flailed and wailed pitifully, reaching to the heavens as though begging for help from the uncaring heavens, but his pleas went unanswered. 

On a conscious level, Lana was quite aware that it was just a vision. But she found herself aching to help the ailing shell of a man her Knave’s shade had become. She pulled back her heavy metal fist again and again, and brought it smashing against the curtain, but to no avail. It held firm, no matter how hard she tried breaking through, or how long.

Half sobbing, Lana sank to her knees and watched impotently as the poor shadow continued to suffer alone and abandoned by the galaxy he had fought so hard to save. When its end came, Lana felt a gratitude down to the tips of her toes. The minutes ticked by as she knelt where she had fallen, crying softly over what she had been forced to witness.

She could not tell how long had passed. Perhaps that was the point.

* * *

Lana finally rose to her feet, hiccuping and sniffling as her sobbing subsided at last. The mist had closed in around her again.

She realized belatedly the smell of cigarra which hung in the air; of a brand she knew quite well. She looked around and found Kaliyo sitting on a nearby rock., waiting patiently to be noticed.

When she saw that Lana had finally come around, she wolf-whistled loudly. “Is that your new uniform?” she chuckled. “You should keep it! Damn, you look so much more curvy and scrumptious under those robes than I thought! The Commander is a luckier man than I thought. And where the heck did those scars come from? They're not what his love bites look like, are they?”

Feeling bitterly insulted, Lana covered her exposed breasts and crossed her legs. “Turn around please. Turn around!”

Kaliyo scoffed and turned around. “Whatever you say.  _ Agent _ .”

Lana stiffened at the word; it had been what Kaliyo called Cipher Nine! How did she—

Before her depressed, humiliated brain could think any further, Kaliyo pulled out her sidearm and shot Lana in the knee.

Howling, Lana sank back to the floor, but Kaliyo was a sudden blur of motion; she lunged forward, grabbing Lana by the throat and forcing her head onto the ground. Lana struggled to breathe but Kaliyo’s unrelenting grip dug deeper and deeper. 

Lana could feel Arro’s distress from his side but still couldn’t call on the Force, so she resorted to her old training. She grabbed the wrist of Kaliyo’s right hand with her own, and the tricep with her left, and knocked Kaliyo over to her side. She then brought both her fists below Kaliyo’s jaw and gave a savage uppercut. With a cry of startled pain, the Rattataki’s grip broke and Lana tossed her off, coughing desperately for air as the grip on her throat was broken. 

As she gagged and coughed, she felt the pain in her knee—forgotten when she was being choked but which redoubled since she had used it to flip Kaliyo over—shoot up further. She couldn’t rise to her feet, so she lay where she was, eyes fixed on her former ally. 

But her own blow had stunned the Rattataki, whose body spasmed regularly.

But though her body was out of the fight, her tongue was not.

“Why?” She shrieked. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me, the only person I ever let my guard down around! And you left me! Betrayed me! And then when we finally met up again you spent a year lying to my fuckin face! After everything we’ve been through together, how could you!?”

It was all Lana could do not to laugh derisively. “I was a spy! Lying was part of my job description! I even told you that, once!”

She could barely take it; how many times had she accompanied Kaliyo to deal with angry exes who had said the same to Kaliyo that Kaliyo had just said to her? About how she had made them feel special, been through some trying times together, but then whom she had walked away from? And how many times had Kaliyo told them that they were not entitled to her, that they shouldn’t expect her to reciprocate just because they demanded it? And here she was demanding the same thing!

She had even betrayed Cipher Nine once on such an ‘outing’, leading her not to an ex, but to terrorists who had wanted to capture, torture, and use her. She had herself lied to Nine again, and again, and again!

Did she really expect her to divulge her most dangerous secret to someone as untrustworthy as an anarchist terrorist?

“I don’t owe you anything just because you think we had something special going on,” Lana hissed. “Besides… When I left that life behind, I left it  _ all _ behind. Your beef with cipher Nine has nothing to do with me. I’m not her! Cipher Nine is dead! And there is only one person who ever has a right to my secrets, and that is my husband!”

Kaliyo screamed with rage then rose jerkily to her feet. Then, to Lana’s complete surprise, her form flickered and changed. She should have known; it was still a vision! But her leg remained injured.

When the figure was done warping, her heart lurched again; she was staring at another face from Cipher Nine’s pages.

“Phi-Ton,” she breathed.

“I think you mean, ‘ _ husband _ ’,” the Voss told her.

“Cipher Nine’s husband. Not mine.”

“Do not try to quibble, my love,” he admonished. His shoulders shook with barely concealed emotion. “I married you because I thought that was what my father wanted! I gave you my heart! Did I not tell you what marriage meant to the Voss?”

“...yes,” Lana whispered. 

“As if that were not bad enough by itself,” his eyes turned accusing. Betrayed. “That was not even my father! It was an imposter you had snuck in after killing my real one! What horrors did he endure as the imposter took his secrets, his skin, his life?”

Lana was trembling violently. “I’m so sorry! That was what it was like back then! That was why I couldn’t stay with them any longer.”

“So you left them,” he brayed. “Just like you left me. With ruins and devastation all around us, with nothing but empty promises to help us pick up the pieces you left behind.”

Lana couldn’t answer.

“Lies. Secrets. That’s all you are. No one can trust you. No one  _ should _ trust you.”

Lana shook her head vehemently. “Again, I am no longer that woman! Besides. I swore never to lie to Arro. To never hide secrets from him.”

Then Phi-Ton disappeared, and an image of Valkorion appeared in his place, smug as ever.

“Oh? Even if you know that every secret you tell him, you also tell me? I am here to stay.”

“I don’t much care what a voyeur like yourself overhears.”

“What if it’s something I can use against your husband? What if your secret changes my mind about letting him keep his? What if your secret gives me all the answers to every question I have ever asked?”

Lana faltered, and Valkorion cackled madly before disappearing in a blast of lightning and wind.

* * *

“Don’t listen to him. He’s a malicious old codger.” 

Lana’s head whipped around at the voice. “Senya?”

“In the dream-flesh,” her newest visitation smiled. Lana tried and failed again to rise to her feet and Senya lurched forward. “No, no! It’s okay! You needn’t trouble yourself for me. You are injured.”

Lana tried to hug the apparition but her hands slipped through the mist. Senya chuckled at the gesture and returned the not-embrace.

“Senya, I am so sorry!” Lana stammered. “You never got to write your song about us! And your son…”

“It’s alright,” Senya said reassuringly. “Every day the two of you live, my song writes itself. ‘The Ballad of Lana and her Jedi’. It’s a legendary piece of art. I doubt there will be another quite like it. And Arcann… He made his own choice. Arro offered him the chance to surrender. He didn’t. But he lived long enough to save Vaylin from her darkness. And Arro let her go when literally no one else in the Galaxy would have done her the same kindness. I believe that he—and you—will cross paths with her again. And that you will continue to help her.”

“That was Arro’s decision, not mine. I don’t know that I would have done the same.”

“Perhaps. But you accepted it. Supported it. When Koth called begging for help, you didn’t abandon Vaylin, nor tell him to. You helped them both when no one would have known if you hadn’t.”

“That’s not me anymore.”

“No, it’s not. You are strong, my friend. So very strong that you can singlehandedly be the Galaxy’s backbone during the darkest hours. Everything the Alliance has—or anyone, anywhere—is because you dared the impossible.”

“And also,” Senya continued. “You no longer have to do that singlehandedly. You and Arro are bound together at the deepest levels. Use that! Use each other! You will always succeed, no matter the odds. Against the two of you, the entire Galaxy doesn’t stand a chance. You are Lana Beniko; Sith, Advisor, Wife, Leader, and Spymaster. You are no longer what you were back then. Be free of that doubt.” She vanished then, a beam of sunlight hiding as a cloud covered the sun.

* * *

Her next visitor was her beloved husband. This time, she could tell it was a vision; the real Arro was still not on Dagobah yet. If nothing else, she had that. “Hello, my Knave.”

“Hey yourself, Wolf!” He smiled. He knelt and removed a medkit from his pack. With precision born from years of practice, he began to clean and treat her injured knee. “I’m afraid this damage is real.” 

Lana cringed. “I was afraid of that. Will it have to come off too? I’ll be more machine than woman soon.”

“Even if that happens, you will never lose your most important parts. And it won’t happen. This should heal completely with some rest.”

“Thank god.”

“... the phantoms we bring in here are very real,” he whispered apologetically by way of explanation. “They can hurt us. Kill us. But worse, they can damage our soul.”

“A little late for that warning,” Lana said through gritted teeth as he bandaged her leg tightly. The painkiller in the kolto was doing its job; she felt the pain wane and almost vanish, and sighed in relief. 

“I’m sorry, my Love,” he apologized. “But your baggage was topmost on the things you brought in. Hardly surprising, given the circumstances.”

“I see. So what are you here for? You’re not real either.”

“But I am never too far from you. You carry a piece of me within you.”

Lana chuckled. “Well does that mean it’s over? My vision? I will need to return to the real world soon. The world doesn’t stop while I dream.”

“But it does slow down a lot,” Arro said. “Less than five minutes have passed on the outside.”

“Handy!”

“Yeah. But about the outside world. What comes next?”

“We will figure that out together.”

“We can start right now.”

“I’m listening.”

Arro nodded, and the mist around her swirled. It became the mirage of their base on Odessen. “The Alliance is growing,” he said. “Changing. It is becoming an entity beyond just taking down the Eternal Empire—or whatever it is that SCORPIO wants to call it now. The Alliance is a Galactic power now. Powerful enough to shape the course of the near future.”

“Yes,” Lana agreed.

“I don’t want this war to be our last mission,” Arro said. “I want to take control of Zakuul’s resources—including the fleet—and rebuild the galaxy. Put out the flames of war. I want to usher in some peace, at least for a little while.”

“We have talked about this before,” Lana nodded.

“Yes. But I think we should also try to ensure that our work outlasts us. At least by a generation.”

Lana smirked. “You mean having children?”

Arro started. “Apprentices. Well, you said you didn’t want to…”

“I am thinking of changing my mind. But that shouldn’t preclude the idea of apprentices.”

Arro regarded her, eyes filling with emotion. “Well... “

“I see even illusions can be startled.”

Arro laughed. “Our conversation might be more real than you think.” It was true. Lana could Feel her husband’s surprise and joy and love just like she could see the apparition’s expressions. Perhaps more clearly. “Perhaps you might be able to continue this conversation with me when I physically arrive. And perhaps Valkorion won’t.”

“These apprentices…” he continued. “I think that we should both train them at the same time, like we were both one teacher.” 

“For all intents and purposes that’s quite true,” Lana said.

“Light. Dark. Sword. Dagger. Blaster. Armor. Cloak. We pass along all of our weapons to them. All of our hopes and dreams.”

“And our tomorrow,” Lana added. “For this Galaxy is already about to become theirs.

Arro hugged her, and Lana was delighted to feel this embrace being more substantial than the one she’d tried to have with Senya. “Indeed. But it’s still in our care for now, and we have discovered new threats hiding in the shadows.”

“The House of Masks. Sir Ruvin. Jhestyr. Panathar.”

“Her real name is Kavitha Ke,” he said. “I remember Master Kalisa Ghenso’s apprentice who came back from the dead. She was so strong in the Force... And a skilled sword-wielder, She preferred a pair of shotos rather than a standard saber. But it was her dispassion that was her biggest strength. Her experiences taught her total detachment. Nothing shook her. Ever.”

“Not even the Dread Masters,” Lana recalled.

“Yes,” Arro nodded. “But more than that, she was on Master Braga’s strike team.”

“What?” Lana jumped, startled. Her start almost shook off the mirage’s not-hug. “She… and does that mean?”

“Yes. She became his slave, killing her way across dozens of battlefields before his death freed her. I believe she was on Belsavis when his control wore off. She presented herself to the Council as soon as she woke; she barely appeared shaken by the experience. She served on Makeb and Oricon. She disappeared after Arcann’s assault on Tython. I thought she had died for real this time.”

“Oh.”

“And now she’s the leader of this new enemy. What she wants now… I really can’t say.”

“I hope we find those answers soon. Anyone who Jadus is willing to answer to is bad news so far as I’m concerned.”

“Definitely.” They both grew quiet for a while, Lana enjoying the warmth of Arro’s feelings enveloping her mind. She was pleased to think that it had somehow grown stronger; like this Cave had strengthened it somehow. The colors and scents of his love eased the tension from her muscles, and shook off the last of her doubts and despair left over from her visions. Perhaps the ghost of Cipher Nine had been laid to rest forever, and she was now Lana without reserve, and that this had had an effect on their link too.

“Lana,” he said after some silence. “What that vision of Valkorion said… I release you from your promise. If you do find any information that’s better off kept from him, then you can do so. Don’t feel ashamed. Do whatever you have to.”

“Thank you. I will.”

* * *

  
  



	22. Epilogue

* * *

Lana sat next to her husband's bed, watching over him as she slept. 

She had been back on Odessen for a week now, and her leg had healed well since then. Physically, however, she was still feeling very drained; not only from her final encounter with Jadus, but also her time in the cave. When her husband came inside the cave (for real) to pull her out, she had slipped into his comforting embrace and into a deep and dreamless sleep. 

She had woken up three days later, dressed (Arro had assured her that no one save him had seen her naked form) and in the medbay. Arro had been sitting next to her, the cat Regis miaowing on his lap. After she had come to, she had explained the first part of her vision to Sana-Rae and Doctor Oggurobb. The latter had been skeptical, but had agreed to run full tests on her husband. They had deliberated long on the results, along with a team of Force Sages and doctors, and had called just fifteen minutes earlier to say that they had the results. 

Lana sighed. She already knew what the tests were about to say, but she still was not eager to have it confirmed. 

"Ah, Lady Beniko, you are already here. Good, good." Oggurobb himself walked in, flanked by Sana-Rae and Talos Drellik. All of them looked disturbed.

"I do not understand how your visions worked, or how the Force knew… But it was accurate. The imperfect freezing process has robbed your husband of his ability to age. You can say that he remains partially frozen even now. Physically, he isn’t ever going to change until that is addressed. Furthermore, it is this very issue that causes him the debilitating pain he experiences. It will only grow worse with time. I cannot say if it will ever end; if he will ever begin to age naturally again, or if he will ever be free of his pain. I am sorry."

Lana nodded mutely, scratching Regis behind his ears, and returned to her watch over her husband's sedated form. She would age, grow old, and eventually die. But that no longer scared her. 

Once she was gone, Arro would linger; alone, afraid, and in deep pain. The knowledge was more frightening than all the schemes Jadus and his cohorts could ever cook up together. 

* * *

On Chandrila, Koth saw that he had a message from Lana. It was brief.

_Take Vaylin, and head to Voss. Take her to the Temple of Healing. It is time for her spirit to start down the path to recovery._

* * *

_Jadus is dead. Jhestyr is dead._

It seemed unbearably funny to Roshan Tussek. All those years of nice, quiet, fruitful scheming had made him feel invincible. Invisible. Unassailable. 

And then in one savage, _hilarious_ day, two of their number were dead. 

He briefly laughed again before outrage swallowed up his mirth once more. It was a cycle: the laughter at the irony, followed by the outrage, and back to the laughter. 

And still that Jedi hadn't called! It had been a week already! And yet he would remember it for the rest of his life. 

He had been with Jhestyr when news of Jadus' death reached them; a short text message from Ruvin. Tussek had said a few words of mourning; for he had liked his efficient Sith colleague. But Jhestyr had laughed, and laughed and laughed, as he always did. And then… He had… died. Laughing. Died laughing! 

What the flying fuck? Was the universe mocking him? After all his work, all his careful investments, was it proving to him that in the end, he truly was just as powerless today as he had been back in the early days? It didn’t seem fair.

And then Sir Ruvin hadn't responded to his own message until this morning, when she had requested a meeting at 1800, Galactic time. 

She was always punctual… But today she was twenty minutes late and counting. Had something happened to her as well? Was their grand conspiracy to be undone and destroyed with a whimper? He seethed and chuckled and worried, and the time continued to pass by unconcernedly.

At 1830 his comm finally chimed and he slammed it without delay. 

_“Hello Lord Panathar.”_

"You're late!" he fumed. 

_"Apologies,"_ the calm Togruta Jedi said. _"I had an urgent call that just could not wait."_

"Is it of any concern to the House of Masks?" 

_"Yes."_ That was what he liked about this Jedi. She was always straight to the point. Never dithered or gave speeches. Simply said ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ in answer to questions, unlike some of the more blustering, verbose sentients he had had the displeasure of working with over the years. _"The last of Jadus' plans have become self-sustaining. He achieved all of his goals, and served the House well."_

Tussek laughed again. "If only we could say the same for Jhestyr. He died laughing. Now, of all times!" 

She shrugged. _"It was no accident. Nor irony. He has been dying of laughter for four hundred and twenty seven years. Like Jadus, he had finished what he set out to do. He_ chose _this moment to die._ " 

Tussek faltered. “What?”

_“He spent over four centuries travelling across the Galaxy, sowing the seeds of the selfsame Hysteria that claimed his wife, daughter, and sons. With his death, those seeds have taken root. Soon, the Galaxy will see the same pointlessness in its existence that he did. They will laugh, as he did. And they will die.”_

Tussek giggled nervously. This time, he was conscious of how irrational his desire to laugh was. _Oh shit._

_“Do not fret, Lord Panathar. You will either grow immune to the hysteria, or get used to it. Like Jhestyr and Jadus, I do not doubt you will live until all of your goals have been reached.”_

_I am_ NOT _reassured, Woman!_ He thought furiously, his giggles intensifying momentarily.

 _“We all die,”_ she said softly. _“We all suffer and toil and fight. Time spares no one. Not stars, not galaxies, not even the Cosmos. Even Vitiate’s time will come. The only question is; how will you go into that good night? Will you go gently, or rage at the dying of the light?”_

 _How cute._ He huffed.

 _“It will be time, soon,”_ she said. _“The Galaxy is steeped in turmoil. Beset by their petty hatreds and conflicts, going mad the closer they stare at the galaxy’s deep and unforgiving void. It is time now, for them to feel the pinch of starvation and thirst, of the collapse of the supply chains of medicines. The onset of Scarcity is nigh. Have your laugh. Embrace it. Burn and rave at the close of day.”_

This was the first time he had heard her speak at length. Despite his initial dislike of her manner, he now found it appropriate. Poetic.

Hilarious. He laughed and giggled uncontrollably.

 _“I will stay in touch,”_ she said. _“It will soon be my turn to ride forth.”_ So saying, she cut off her transmission and her image dissolved. In his penthouse, Tussek’s laughter grew in volume, in its fevered pitch, and in its fierce, reckless abandon. 

Outside, all across the galaxy, people began to laugh without knowing why. 

Hysteria had taken root.

* * *

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we reach the conclusion of Book II !  
> Thank you for staying with me so far. I would welcome comments and suggestions.


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